The Love of the Lost
by DracosVessel
Summary: SEQUEL to "The Lives of the Lost," Draco and Harry continue their story. When we left them, Harry helped Draco recover from drug addiction where their romance first sparked. After Harry's terrible "accident," a Bond is needed to save him. Now the two must see where this new twist in the tale takes them. THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!
1. Bonding

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter

"I'll do it," Draco Malfoy exclaims to the room. "Bond him to me."

The Healers exchange glances at this, but do not argue with him. My heart is pounding rapidly, which only seems to increase my fatigue. Surreal. This entire thing is far too surreal. For the past few days I had been attempting to wrap my mind around the idea that I would never see Draco again, and now he's standing here offering to Bond himself to me. He is only doing it because I will die otherwise, but still, he knows that there are other people in the waiting room who could do it instead.

"Draco, absolutely _not!"_ Lucius Malfoy protests coldly, his voice sending a Dementor-like chill throughout the entire room. The Healers both tense visibly. Narcissa is growing noticeably uncomfortable, shifting back and forth on her feet, refusing to look at anyone. However, Draco turns to look directly at his father.

"He will _die_ without this Bond," Draco states matter-of-factly.

"That is not of our concern. There are plenty of other people who would be willing to proceed with such a _drastic_ method if necessary."

"But _I'm _here now and I am offering to do this."

"Draco, I _forbid_ you to Bond with this _person_."

Draco takes a step away from his father, his shoulders tense. "You _forbid_ me!? I'm an adult now and I can do as I please. The Healer said that a Bond requires the consent of Potter and myself. Nothing was said about needing _your_ consent!"

"You're being irrational! Malfoys don't –"

"I'm so _tired_ of hearing that! Malfoys don't do this. Malfoys don't do that! I'm doing this!"

Lucius stands there in stunned silence, outraged by his son's disobedience. Safely assuming that this is the first time Draco has ever disobeyed him, I feel the need to step in.

"Draco, you don't have to do this," I tell him. "I don't want to cause this, it's okay, I –"

"No! It's _not_ okay!" Draco shouts. "Potter, I am _tired_ of this. I'm not going to let him tell me that I cannot do what I can to save you! I'm not going to let you Bond with anyone else! And I'm not going to _apologize_ for loving you!"

The room freezes in a deafening silence at his last words. Draco's eyes widen significantly as he realizes what he has just admitted to me and the rest of the room. Lucius gives his son a disgusted glance before storming out of the room. Narcissa, however, remains rooted to her spot. Draco ignores his father's disappearance and sits back down on the bed next to me. He takes my hand in his once more and looks at me.

"I never should have pushed you away," he says softly. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I can't bear the thought of losing you or of you being Bonded to anyone other than me. I'm sorry that I didn't fight for you before, but I'm fighting for you now. I want to do this for you."

I take a deep breath, about to say something when he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on my lips. As he pulls away, he takes a deep breath of his own before speaking again.

"Harry Potter – will you marry me?"

My heart stops. Everyone else in the room completely disappears. Despite knowing that his proposal is simply a request for a Bond with only a purpose of saving my life, it still tugs at my heart. The entire room is holding their breath in suspense, awaiting my answer.

Without meaning to, a laugh escapes my throat. "Yes, Draco."

The Healer nearest me pulls out their wand and points it at our joined hands. "Alright, then. Are you two both sure that you want to go through with this?"

We both nod slowly.

"Very well." A golden light erupts from the tip of the Healer's wand, wrapping itself around our hands and forearms. "_Sempiternus Vincio."_

Golden spirals tighten around us, spreading a soothing warmth up my arm. Looking closer, I notice that the spirals are taking shape. The golden outline of the head of a stag glows on Draco's forearm and an equally golden outline of a wolf's head glows on my own. The images seem to burn into our skin before fading into a faint white that is barely noticeable. The golden light ceases and the Healer lowers the wand.

"Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, the two of you are now Bonded," the Healer states simply.

"Does this mean he's going to be alright?" Narcissa asks, surprising me with the genuine concern displayed in her tone.

"He will need to stay near Draco temporarily until he regains his strength," the Healer explains to the rest of the room. "I suggest he also get plenty of rest. After about a week or two I would prefer him to come back in so that we can check up on him and make sure that the recovery went well."

"Will they have to stay with each other at all times?"

"Only until Harry gets his strength back. He will need Draco around so that he can feed off of his energy. Once he has recovered, they can go about their lives as they normally would. As you are well aware, the Bond will not force them to need to be with each other. As a matter of fact, once Harry is healed, they may request an Unbonding Ceremony if they wish."

"We will leave you alone and get your discharge papers, Harry," the other Healer finally speaking up. "We will be right back and then you'll be free to leave."

"Yes, but remember that you need to take it easy for the next week or so," the first Healer reminds me.

"I will, don't worry," I say encouragingly, suddenly feeling slightly better. I'm still exhausted and a little bit sore, but definitely better. The Healers both vacate the room, leaving me with my new – Draco.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Narcissa asks gently, putting a hand to my forehead.

"Alright, I guess," I reply. "I really just want to get out of here."

"Well, let's go in the waiting room until the Healer brings us your papers and you can assure your friends that you are alright. Ms. Granger is quite concerned."

"_Concerned?_" Draco repeats. "That's an understatement! She's a complete and utter basket case out there."

"_What!?_" I exclaim. "Oh, no. I have to get out there. I have to see her."

"Whoa, slow down, Potter!" Draco grabs my arm to steady me as I attempt to rush out of the bed. My legs feel a bit weak, but painless nonetheless. Leaning against Draco as he holds onto me, we make our way out into the waiting room to see my friends. Hermione is curled up in George's arms, crying. My heart constricts painfully. Ginny is the first to notice me and does not hesitate to alert the rest of them to my presence.

"Harry!" Ginny cheers loudly, her voice practically echoing throughout the waiting room. They all stand back patiently and allow Hermione to be the first one to approach me.

Hermione bursts from her seat and flies across the room, making it to my side with her arms around me in record time. She holds me closely, still trembling slightly with her tears. "Harry! Oh, Harry! It was so _awful!_ It all happened so fast! I was so worried! The Healers wouldn't tell me anything! What happened!? What did they say!? Are you alright!?"

"I-I'm fine, Hermione," I assure her. She is hugging me so tightly it's almost difficult to breathe. The feeling gives me a strange flashback and a thought occurs to me. "What happened to Astoria? Is she alright? Have you seen her?"

At the mention of her name, I can feel a small spike of pain, but it feels somehow foreign. Draco? Oh, Merlin, I can feel Draco's emotions. Does this mean he can feel mine as well? What do my emotions feel like to him? It appears that there is going to be a lot to get used to with this Bond. How unusual to think about the fact that I'm married – I'm _married_ – to Draco Malfoy no less. The idea should horrify me, but the complete opposite seems to be true. As my mind forms the words, a small smile threatens to break across my face.

"Astoria was discharged about twenty minutes ago," Hermione tells me. "She suffered a few injuries, but they healed her without a problem. I don't understand why she was healed and sent home so quickly and you were in there for so long."

"Because Astoria wasn't hit with a curse," I say reluctantly.

"You were hit with a curse!? That can't be! I thought that the building just collapsed!"

"I felt the spell hit me just before the building fell down. The Healer said that the curse drained my magic and I wasn't strong enough to recover fully on my own. That's why I was in there for so long."

The rest of my friends are staring on curiously, listening to every word. Gesturing toward the chairs, Draco and Hermione guide me to them so that I can sit down. Hermione sits next to me and holds my hand as I lean against Draco. Blaise and Narcissa stand off to the side, watching curiously. George, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Parvati are all sitting around me, waiting for me to explain what happened. There is no doubt that Draco can feel my anxiety at this moment. How are my friends going to react to this news? How do I tell them that I'm married to Draco Malfoy?

"If you've been drained of your magic, why are they letting you go home?" Parvati asks me, clearly understanding the severity of being drained of one's magic.

"Um, well, because they found a way for me to feed off of someone else's magic," my voice is quiet and nervous sounding as it reaches my own ears. "T-they said that if I was, er, Bonded to someone I could use their magic for energy until I regain my strength. And, well, Draco was, and so we, and then, um, well –"

"Potter and I are Bonded," Draco finishes for me, pitying my flustered state.

There is an unsettling silence that overtakes the group surrounding me. George and Hermione look relatively casual as they process the information. Neville looks genuinely confused. Ginny looks scandalized, which I cannot help but find amusing. Parvati is simply staring with her mouth wide open. Luna, however, looks sincerely pleased by this news. Leave it to Luna to always be supportive of whatever makes someone happy, no matter what other people think. Part of me wants to hug her for the smile on her face. However, Blaise dispels this thought as his voice catches my attention.

"Wha –? How did y –? Why would he –? But I thought you –" Blaise stutters.

"Assuming he'll never be able to finish any of these sentences, why don't I give it a shot," says Hermione evenly. "What do you mean the two of you are Bonded?"

"I thought it was a fairly simple concept to grasp," Draco retorts coolly. "However, I suppose you can't be expected to be the brightest every second of the day. That would be far too much pressure."

Hermione sighs in frustration. "I know what a Bonding is, _Draco_. If a Bonding was the only possible method of helping you, Harry, why did they Bond you to Draco?"

"Because Draco offered to do it," I answer as if it were obvious.

Before there can be any comments from anyone else, the Healer returns with my discharge papers, handing them to Narcissa. "There you are, Harry, you're free to go. I will leave these forms with your Mother-In-Law. And I expect to see you for a check-up in two weeks. Try to stay out of trouble until then, please."

"I'll try my best," I humor her. Although, looking back at my life, staying out of trouble has not been my strong point. My stomach is in knots at the mention of Narcissa being my Mother-In-Law. _Mother-In-Law._ Draco is my _husband _and Narcissa is my _Mother-In-Law._ I have a _family._ In only a matter of hours, my life is drastically different from what it has previously been, drastically different from what I ever thought it could be.

After long goodbyes with each of my friends and assurance that I'm alright and will see them soon, we finally leave the hospital. Draco and Narcissa take me to a quaint shop in Muggle London and up to the apartment upstairs. The apartment is surprisingly large on the inside and decorated in modern-style furniture. There is a lot of black, white, and silver all throughout, with each room having its own specific color splashed about it. The bathroom is splashed with a calming blue – the towels, the shower curtain, and the rug. The kitchen is splashed with a dark, yet vibrant red. The main room is splashed with a combination of orange and yellow throw pillows and vases. Narcissa's bedroom has a lovely deep purple. Draco's room, however, has no specific coloring – simple black, white, and silver.

The decorations are all very tasteful, with a unique style and display as if it is a photograph out of a home furnishing catalog. It is quite clear that this style is all Narcissa, since I do not recall seeing anything like this in my brief visit to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa shows me around the apartment, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. Draco grabs a green apple from a bowl on the kitchen counter and observes us as we walk around.

"Well, this is it," Narcissa finally states. "Welcome home, Harry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," I thank her politely.

"Harry, seeing as you are technically my son-in-law now, if you wish you could call me Mum. Or Narcissa at the very least. Either one is fine. It's up to you, really."

Shocked by her acceptance of me as part of her family, I look over to Draco for some sort of reassurance. He is leaning casually against the kitchen counter, tossing the apple up in the air and then catching it over and over again, his familiar smirk displayed on his face. However, now that we are Bonded, I can be sure that his emotion does not match the expression on his face. He is equally as surprised at his mother's words, but it is the overwhelming feeling of hope underlying his surprise that makes me smile.

Turning back to Narcissa, I address her nervously, "Um, I-I'll get back to you on that."

"Don't feel any pressure, Harry," she insists. "Call me Narcissa until you feel comfortable with anything else. Now, off to bed, both of you. The Healer told you to rest, remember? And Draco, you better take care of him! He is your responsibility now."

"In sickness and in health, is it, then, Mum?" Draco mocks her playfully.

"Too right, you are," she agrees, smiling at her son. "In magical terms, a Bond only requires that you can feed off your each other's magic, feel each other's emotions, and experience each other's physical pain or pleasure. However, that does not mean that you should take this Bond lightly. It is a very large commitment to make and, especially when your Bond partner is unwell, it is vital that you take this seriously."

"Mum, relax, we're taking this seriously. I'm not going to let anything happen to him. However, as his mother-in-law, you should be doing your part to take care of him as well."

"Oh, really? Is that so?" She raises her eyebrows at him, an amused smirk on her face.

"Yes, it is, indeed. So, that being the case, we shall be expecting a magnificent breakfast when we wake up tomorrow morning. Night, Mother."

Draco flashes her a smile, tossing the apple to her, and takes my hand as he drags me back into his, _our_, bedroom. He stands there for a moment, looking from me to the bed and back again. Pulling off the uncomfortable clothes that the hospital gave me and tossing them on a nearby chair, I climb into the bed without waiting for him to say anything. He watches me, seeming somewhat astonished. I pull the blanket up to my chin, rolling over onto my side and making myself comfortable.

"Goodnight, Draco."


	2. Malfoy Mayhem

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Draco Malfoy – Thursday, August 24th, 2000

Loud, screaming voices shake me out of the most peaceful sleep I've had in years. Harry Potter is in my arms, his face pressed into my neck. Oddly enough, this is not the position in which we fell asleep. I wonder at what point in the night we managed to unconsciously search out each other's bodies. He shifts as the voices wake him as well. The emerald perfection of his eyes look sleepily up at me. We stare at each other, struggling to wake up fully as we listen and try to process the commotion outside the room. My stomach twists and turns violently as my brain begins to register the source of the voices.

"Are you mad!?" Father bellows. "How can you support this!? This is unbelievable! We have to put an end to it immediately!"

"I will do no such thing!" Mother retorts confidently. "I have put up with a lot from you over the years, Lucius, but I am putting my foot down. That boy will die without this Bond, do you understand that!? He has been so sweet to our Draco and Draco clearly wants him alive! I will _not_ stand in the way of that!"

"This Bond is an abomination! He's a Malfoy, Narcissa! We have standards and expectations! Draco must live up to them! And the people he spends his time with must live up to them also!"

"Harry is a lovely young man, and the fact that he cares so much for Draco should carry some weight, don't you think?" Mother's tone is defensive, showing no hint that she will be backing down any time soon. I silently motion for Harry to stay in the bed as I slip out of the bed to investigate.

"Father?" I alert them to my presence as I approach the scene. The tension in the air between them is palpable. Mother seems surprised to see me, but Father does not allow any change to his composure as he turns toward me. "What are you doing here? How did you find this place?"

"Do you honestly think that I wouldn't keep an eye on my wife, Draco?" Father says harshly, his jaw tight with restraint. "Our house elves are sure to keep me apprised of her whereabouts."

"You have our house elves follow her around and spy on her?" My tone is scandalized and disapproving.

"Apparently I should have done the same with you," Father hisses. "Look at the mess you have gotten yourself into! The mess, as we are on the subject, that is the reason I am here this morning. It is necessary that we discuss the matter and what is to be done about it."

"What is to be done?" I repeat, irritation growing in my core.

"Lucius, please, don't do –" Mother attempts, but Father lifts his hand to silence her.

"Now, I have brought a specialist with me who will be able to Unbond the two of you immediately," Father explains evenly. "I'm sure he'd be willing to take Potter to one of his friends afterward. Now, we will have to make sure that –"

"No!" I blurt out, tensing at the shocked expression on his face at my interruption. "I'm not going to consent to an Unbonding Ceremony."

"You _will_ consent to an Unbonding Ceremony, or you will suffer the consequences! This is not a game I am willing to play with you, Draco! You are going to have to choose between your family and the Chosen One! I will not allow such a disgrace!"

A powerful anguish overwhelms me and I cannot tell if it is my own emotion or if it is coming from Harry, who is no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation. An ultimatum. He is forcing me to choose. _Fuck!_ How am I supposed to choose between Harry and my family!? My family has always been the most important thing in my life, but Harry could die without the Bond. Of course, if this specialist takes him to Granger, I'm sure she would be willing to Bond with him. Granger would be Bonded with him instead of me. _Blagh!_ _No!_

"Father, I have spent all of my life trying _so_ hard to please you," I tell him calmly. "But nothing I ever do is good enough for you. Nothing I ever do makes you happy. And now I have Potter and he is happy with me the way that I am. He makes me happy for the first time in years. If you want to disown me for that, that's _fine._ But I'm not leaving him."

The flood of relief washing over me is definitely not my own. Harry appears by my side, a blanket wrapped around him and his glasses tilted slightly on his face. Out of a final act against my father, I wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him against me. There is something cathartic about finally standing up to my father. After so many years of pretending that the resentment that was building toward him was nothing, it feels fantastic not to hold it in any longer. Father looks outraged at my defiance.

"You are no longer my son," Father states, void of emotion as usual. He turns to Mother, holding an arm out to her. "Narcissa, he has made his choice. Come with me."

Mother takes a step back, rejecting his offered arm. "How_ dare_ you, Lucius!? How dare you!?"

"I did what needed to be done," he justifies his actions to her.

"And now _I'm_ going to do what needs to be done." The sharp, cold expression on her face prevents anyone from speaking or moving until she continues. "Lucius, go and bring up your specialist. You _will_ consent to an Unbonding Ceremony," she parrots his earlier command made to me.

"You are requesting to leave me, Narcissa?" He is unable to hide the surprise in his voice as he stares at her with wide eyes. For the first time, he has lost his composure. "Very well."

He exits the room temporarily to bring in his specialist. In his absence, Harry and I stare, mouths open, at my mother. She steps quietly across the room, taking Harry's face in her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Harry, listen to me," Mother says carefully. "You are a part of this family and I am not going to let anyone decide otherwise."

"You don't have to do this for me," Harry protests hurriedly. "As much as it means to me, this is your _family!_ I cannot allow you to give that up for me!"

"Potter, _this_," I gesture to the three of us, "_this_ is our family. I'm not willing to give this up for anything. It is _his_ choice not to accept this. He's the one who refuses to open his mind."

"This is not your fault, Harry," Mother adds. "This has been a long time coming."

Father, or I suppose no longer my father, reenters the room with a shorter man on his heels. The shorter man, looking slightly pathetic in the shadow of the man next to him, pulls out his wand. Holding on to Harry, I helplessly watch my parents joins hands and the familiar golden light erupt from the tip of the man's wand. The outlines on my mother's forearm in the shape of the head of a peacock begin to glow before disappearing completely. Despite the sleeve of my father's suit covering his arm, I can easily imagine the golden outline of the swan head disappearing from his forearm. As the light fades and the man lowers his wand, their hands pull apart to further signal the end of their marriage.

"Well, I suppose I should be going then," he mutters as he stares at his former wife. "Goodbye, Narcissa, Draco."

"_Mr. Malfoy_," I reply coldly, earning another shocked glance. For a moment, it seems as though there is a pained look on his face, but he quickly squares his shoulders, standing up straight and taking a steadying breath. Nodding to the room, he makes his dramatic exit, his cloak sweeping across the room. The awkward, plump man gives an uneasy nod to my mother before hurriedly following. And at last, we are alone, each of our lives completely changed.

I am no longer a Malfoy. No longer Draco Malfoy. I'm just Draco. Despite there being a bit of relief at the idea – released from the endless list of expectations and judgments – there is still a sickening feeling in my gut. If I'm no longer Draco Malfoy – who am I? What exactly is left? All my life I have been Draco Malfoy – I have been taught how a Malfoy is supposed to talk, act, think – it's the only thing I've ever known. Without it, who am I? My mother seems to notice this moment of panic, pulling me into her arms and kissing the top of my head.

"Draco, I'm so sorry," Mother says softly. "Are you alright?"

"It's just a lot to process, that's all," I insist, which is partially true. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we focus on our _new_ family and making things work. You said before that you're happy, Draco, and if that is the case, I'm going to stand by you, both of you, every step of the way. I know that this is a lot to take in and it's going to be different, but everything is going to be okay. We have all survived everything that has been thrown at us in the past and we will survive this, too. Don't worry about Lucius. I don't want either of you to dwell on this. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry and I echo each other in response.

"Good," she smiles, a genuine smile, as if nothing had happened. "Well, I'm going to get to making that breakfast you mentioned yesterday. Then I have to get down to open the shop. Harry, are you feeling up to seeing anyone today if someone stops by?"

"Oh, um, I think I'd rather just stay with Draco today," Harry answers. "It's already been an eventful morning and I'm tired and sore and I don't want to deal with anyone today."

"Very well. Remember that I will be right downstairs if you need anything." Mother retreats to the kitchen to make breakfast. The fact that she seems together and confident after the family meltdown that just occurred puts my mind at ease. However, part of me questions the sincerity of her composure. It would be perfectly understandable for her to be upset after having Unbonded from the man she has been with for so many years. When I was growing up, they seemed like a couple that truly loved each other and supported each other. Now that is gone forever in a matter of minutes. Surely there must be more to what she is feeling than she is willing to show.

Harry, still wrapped up in the blanket, shuffles over to the sofa and curls up in a ball on one end of it, resting his chin on his knees. A sad frown is plastered on his beautiful face and I can feel it within my chest. With a heavy sigh, I sit next to him, placing my hand on the back of his head, entangling my fingers in his hair that is still sticking up in all directions. He does not bother to look at me, but his eyes flutter closed at the fingers in his hair.

"Potter?" I whisper, leaning in closer to him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles so quietly that I almost didn't hear it.

"Sorry? For what?"

"It's just that – I never had my dad – and now you've lost yours because of me."

"Potter, _stop! _Stop right there! This was my decision! I chose to Bond with you and to remain Bonded. I chose _you._ And it was his choice to leave his family. This is not your fault."

Harry finally lifts his head to look at me. "But if I hadn't needed the Bond in the first place –"

"If you hadn't needed the Bond in the first place, then I would be sitting in the Manor Garden, completely miserable for walking out on you and wishing desperately that I never had. Besides, you didn't cause the accident. None of this is your fault. We want you here, Potter."

"I just hate thinking that your family has fallen apart. No family should ever have to go through that."

"You continue to forget that we are _still_ a family. He may be gone, but Mum is still here and I'm still here and now we have you. And probably Granger, unfortunately, since that seems to be a package deal type situation. And, Merlin forbid, all your other friends are part of the deal as well." My tone slips into a mocking despair as I tease him. "Oh, what have I gotten myself into? What a terrible mistake! Now I'm stuck with _all of them!_ How will I survive!?"

Harry's elbow slams into my side, pushing me off the sofa and onto the floor in front of him. I quickly look up at him, expecting to see an irritated expression, but instead he starts laughing. With a growl of frustration at his amusement, I tug on the blanket, pulling him down onto the floor with me. He collapses on top of me with an audible _oof_ before laughing again. We look into each other's eyes, realizing what had just happened. He clears his throat uncomfortably, lifting himself off of me. Avoiding eye contact with him, I sit up and push myself back up onto the sofa. We both seem uncomfortable with the ease at which we are able to interact like a legitimate couple. As much as I've secretly wished for this, it seems wrong that it be this easy.

Later that night, after Mother closes her shop and the three of us finished eating dinner, we all sit around in the living room. The room is completely quiet, much more relaxing than the morning. Mother is curled up comfortably on one of the armchairs, her attention focused on the book in her lap. The book I had been reading moments ago is being ignored, however, as I lie spread out on the sofa with Harry lying on top of me, fast asleep. His head is resting on my chest and his arm hangs over the side of the sofa as he dreams peacefully. My hand is stroking at his hair as I stare off into space, my mind adrift in a sea of countless thoughts.

As comforting as it is to believe that today is the perfect example of how our new lives are going to be from here on in, the reality of the situation does not seem so simple. We cannot spend every day alone hiding out in this apartment. Eventually we will have to leave the apartment. Eventually we will have to face my friends, his friends, and the rest of the world. Oh, Merlin, the rest of the world. What is going to happen when the rest of the world finds out about the Bond? It is very unlikely that it will be possible to keep a Bond to the bloody Chosen One a secret. Before we know it, it will be posted on the front page of the _Daily Prophet._

"Draco? Draco?" my mother's voice finally breaks through my haze. "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I was just thinking," I tell her.

She closes her book, placing it on the small table next to her. "I think I'm going to head to bed. Are the two of you okay out here?"

Glancing down at Harry's happily sleeping form, I nod to her. "Yeah, we're fine."

"Alright. I'll see you both in the morning." Slipping out of the chair, she makes her way toward her bedroom, but stops in the doorway and turns back to look at me. "Draco, we're going to be okay. This will all start to feel normal soon enough."

"I know, Mum. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, darling."


	3. Changing Titles

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter – Friday, August 25th, 2000

By the time I wake up, the clock reads a quarter to noon. Draco and I are still entangled on the sofa in the living room. For a moment, I am about to try to fall back asleep, until I hear the door to the apartment open and shut. A heavy sigh from the kitchen pulls me into a sitting position. Narcissa is leaning over the counter, propped up on her elbows with her face buried in her hands. As delicately as possible, I pull myself away from Draco without waking him and make my way over to the kitchen. Worried that she might be crying, I feel very unsure as to how to approach her. However, when she lifts her head at the sound of me sitting down in one of the bar stools at the counter, her eyes are dry and there are no signs of genuine sadness in them.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Narcissa whispers, glancing over at Draco. "Did I wake you?"

"No, no," I assure her, matching her hushed tone. "I was already awake. Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"You can tell me, if you wanted to, that is."

She watches me, studying my face very carefully. With another heavy sigh, she walks around the counter to occupy the stool next to me. "I have just returned from having my name changed back to my maiden name. I am Narcissa Black, once again. I also had to change Draco's name as well."

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. That must've been difficult for you, after all, you've been a Malfoy for a really long time."

"Yes, well, it is better this way. Although I'm not sure how Draco will react to this change. It all seems so surreal. Going from Mrs. Malfoy to Ms. Black after so many years. Changing titles has confirmed the reality of our situation." She subtly rubs over her now bare ring finger, a noticeable tan line from where her wedding ring had always been.

"I'm sorry that I've caused so much trouble for your family, Narcissa. First, with everything that Voldemort put you through over me. Now, here I am, tearing the family apart. You had to lose your husband and change your name and worry about Draco. It's all so messed up –"

"Harry, I want you to listen to me, alright?" Narcissa stops me. She reaches over and holds my hand, her thumb rubbing back and forth over the scar there. "Whatever problems our family has had, none of them are your fault. This has all been a result of Lucius. It was Lucius who insisted that bringing the Dark Lord into our lives was the way to go. He was so sure that it was the right cause to fight for and that it would be the safest option for our family. I always hoped that, in the end, he would be able to choose Draco over anything else that came along. What is happening now – the Bond, the divorce, the name changes – it's all a result of Lucius being unable or unwilling to do that."

"Does that bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me. Draco deserves better than that. Hell, _I_ deserve better than that. Lucius isn't fit to be a proper father, especially not to the type of person that Draco has grown up to be. And that will always bother me because Draco deserves to have a proper father. But Lucius will never be that, regardless of your involvement."

"Can I ask you a really personal question?"

"As a new member of the family, I suppose you've earned the right to a personal question."

"Why did you marry him?"

Narcissa's eyes close as she sighs again, deeply contemplating my question. After a long moment, she looks up at me, her eyes dark with something I cannot identify. "Because I _had_ to. Lucius and I had only known each other for a relatively short time. I mean, we had always been in classes together at Hogwarts, but we never spent much time together. It wasn't until after graduation that we had begun seeing each other. He always spoke of his plans to get involved with the Dark Arts, and for a while I found the idea exciting. However, it became significantly less so when I discovered I was pregnant."

My eyes widen noticeably, but I do not say a word. I would hate for her to think that I'm judging her, because I wouldn't dare judge the mistakes of a woman who has given up so much to help me. Instead, I wait patiently for her to continue as she collects her thoughts.

"It was quite a scandal, I must say. Everyone was appalled. Our families decided that we _must_ get married immediately. No one was supposed to know the truth. They did not want such a thing becoming the gossip of their high profile social circles. So, we got married. I moved into Malfoy Manor and when the news finally became public knowledge that I was pregnant, no one was the wiser. No one questioned it. You want to know a secret?"

"S-sure."

"I thought about running."

"What?"

"Several times. I thought about running away. Just taking Draco and getting as far away from them as possible, from that world. Having Draco did not discourage Lucius from any of his plans. I didn't want Draco to be a part of that world – I knew it wouldn't be safe for him. Time has proven me right. But I was too afraid. I was afraid that they would find me and take Draco away from me. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to protect and provide for him the way I needed to. So I stayed."

A long silence settles between us as I stare at her, attempting to process what she had told me. She, however, is watching Draco as he remains asleep on the sofa. In that moment, something seems to click inside my brain. As I look at her, seeing the way she is looking at Draco, seeing how much she loves him and how much she is willing to do for him, I cannot help but think of my mother, of Lily Potter, the woman who did everything for me. Then I think of my father and what he was willing to do for me. And Lucius was so willing to walk out on them both over something so trivial. This is the moment when everything about my new life makes sense to me – feels normal. This is the moment when I truly feel like I have a family.

"I think you're an amazing mother," I finally tell her. "And I'm glad that you're my mother now, too."

Narcissa's wide eyes shimmer with threat of tears, a shocked expression on her face. Leaning forward, she pulls me into a hug. "I'm so thrilled to hear that. I know that if you can make Draco as happy as you do, you must be truly remarkable."

"Thanks, Mum." As the final word passes my lips, I smile. It feels right. The idea of it had made me quite anxious, but now there is something comforting about it. And there is something inside of me, telling me that my mother, wherever she is now, is genuinely happy for me. Perhaps that is the comforting part – knowing that my mother would be happy for me at the idea of having a family now. Of course, I still wish that she was here to be a part of it, but I know she's smiling anyway.

What an interesting idea! _All of us gathered together on Christmas morning. My mother and Narcissa slaving away in the kitchen, filling the rest of the house with the smell of freshly baked bread, a wonderfully roasted turkey, and tons of other side dishes that would make us regret eating anything by the end. My dad, Draco, and I would be in some sort of heated debate about Quidditch teams and their players by the fireplace. Sirius would come in and insist that we open his present first, only to find that his present is some sort of practical joke that will have the four of us roaring with laughter as the women both scold him. Perhaps we would have a cat curled up in front of the fire._ What an interesting idea, it is.

"Oh, and I wouldn't worry about Draco," I tell her, looking over at the sleeping blond. "I'm sure it will be difficult for him to get used to, not having his father in his life, but he's still pretty lucky. You love him enough to stand by him and accept me. That's what will matter most to him in the long run."

"His happiness has been put on hold for far too long," says Narcissa sadly. "As his mother, that breaks my heart. I must warn you, he is quite high maintenance. Do you think you're up to the task?"

"It seems a bit too late now. But I'm not afraid to knock him down a peg or two."

"Listen, Harry, I want to thank you for being there for him these past few months. He has been telling me about his struggles with his meth addiction and I'm not sure how he would have made it through to the other side of this without your help."

"He's stronger than he thinks he is. I'm sure that he would have made it through just fine."

"Still, it was very kind of you to aid him." Narcissa taps her fingers on the counter uncomfortably, staring down at her lap. The crease between her eyes displays the intensity of her thought process. We sit there silently, allowing the other to sort through their thoughts.

Draco seems to be ignoring me as we relax together in bed. He is lying on his stomach with his head pointed toward the end of the bed and his attention is solely pointed toward the paper in front of him that he seems to be absently drawing little pictures on. The collection of doodles includes detailed sketches of owls and dragons, diagrams of Quidditch plays, and what I cannot help but notice are a few extremely impressive drawings of me in different variations. As he seems to be putting the final touches on another owl, shading the spots on the wings, I watch the concentration on his face. His bottom lip is captured between his teeth and the only sound in the room is the scraping of the pencil against the paper.

Without really thinking it through, my hand reaches up and strokes gently at his hair. Draco pauses in his task to glance over at me as I continue to play with his white-blond locks. His eyebrows furrow in puzzled amusement.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Draco asks in his usual sharp tone.

"I like playing with your hair," I confess, feeling slightly self-conscious of my actions, but with the Bond there is no real point in lying to him or hiding anything from him. "It's really soft, and bright, very bright."

His body shakes with laughter. "You're kind of goofy."

"Gee, thanks," I mumble dully. It's only after a long moment of staring at his smile that I realize it was not an insult. It's only after looking close enough that I see the unspoken, 'but I love you anyway' hidden in his eyes. The thought of this stirs me to lean toward him, searching for a kiss. However, at the last moment, his face turns away, causing my lips to press against his cheek instead.

"_Now_ what are you doing?"

"I was _trying_ to kiss you."

"Why?"

"B-because I wanted to." I stare at him for a moment. His expression is guarded, yet slightly amused, however, through the Bond, I can feel that his emotions once again do not coincide. There is clearly nothing I can do about him – he always feels the need to put on this act with me, with everyone, so I decide to simply go along with it. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't want to kiss me."

"I always want to kiss you," Draco whispers softly against my lips, but pulls away before actually kissing me.

Draco No-Longer-Malfoy is the most unusual being I have ever encountered. We are Bonded, married, for Merlin's sake, and he is still hiding from me, pretending to be this cold, detached person that I know for a fact he is _not._ His father is out of the picture and his mother is more supportive than we ever could have hoped for – so I don't understand why he is still holding back. Was I wrong about how he feels about me? He did kiss me back before. He did offer to Bond with me even though anyone else could have done it. He even told his father that he "wouldn't apologize for loving me." So why does he still keep me at arm's length?

Infuriating. I'm tired of loving him and wanting to be with him, but being so subtly rejected. The fact that I can feel his emotions, telling me that he wants to be with me too but denying it, only seems to make it even more difficult to deal with every day. Denying it is not an option for him anymore, I will see to that.

"If you always want to kiss me, then kiss me," I demand forcefully, taking his pencil and paper from him and tossing them onto the floor. He sighs heavily, most likely preparing to pull away in another rejection. Unwilling to allow him to back out of this or have this much control over how things will work between us any longer, I ignore his pending protestations – my lips catching his before he has time to utter a single word.

Our noses bump slightly and our teeth knock together. He makes a strangled groan as he is no longer able to support himself on his elbow and falls over on top of me. This doesn't bother me at all. I simply wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down further. He places his hands on the bed on either side of my head to prop himself up, trying to keep his body from resting atop mine, despite my fruitless attempts to bring him closer. Slowly allowing my eyes to open to peek at him, I notice his eyes are half-lidded with what, as I can feel through the Bond, is a calming desire.

All of the tension that he seems to be keeping bottled up at all times appears to drain out of him as he allows himself to kiss me back. This is all I want – for him to accept it, accept me, accept us. All of the emotions that _he_ is feeling are overwhelming me, causing a deep need for me to hold him as close as possible. Nothing I have ever experienced has ever felt like this – being able to feel someone else's emotions – I feel so unbearably connected to him and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. It is the most intense, intimate, and terrifying position I've ever been in.

A small sound seems to echo in my ears, the sound of our lips pulling apart, to ruin the moment. He hovers above me, his breathing perfectly steadying, staring down into my eyes. For the first time since the Bonding, he is completely unreadable. He clambers off of me and turns away, climbing underneath the blanket.

"Goodnight, Potter," is all he says.

Feeling as though he smacked me across the face, I sit there in shock, staring at his immobile form as he lays there silently with his back to me. That's it? _Goodnight, Potter!?_ That's it!? With an audible huff, I tumble out of the bed and out into the living room. Narcissa has already gone to bed, so the lights are all already off. I grab a blanket that is draped over the back of a nearby armchair and make myself comfortable on the sofa. Taking off my glasses and putting them on the table next to me, I pull the blanket up over my head. _Goodnight, Draco._


	4. Astoria's Fate

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Draco Malfoy – Saturday, August 26th, 2000

Waking up to a sharp spike of unexpected terror is never a preferred method, even worse so when the terror is not your own. My arm flies over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. _Harry!?_ Bolting out of the bed and storming out into the living room, Harry is on the sofa, his head thrashing from side to side. He whimpers and I kneel down on the floor next to him, reaching out to stroke the sweat-soaked fringe of his hair away from his face.

"Wake up," I whisper in the most soothing tone I can muster, gently stroking at his hair. "Wake up, shh, wake up."

Harry flings himself forward, gasping for air as if he has just broken through the surface of a deep ocean. His chest heaves as he pants, attempting to collect himself. After a moment, he looks down at me, his innocent eyes wide as he realizes the source of his terror was not real. Without a word, he slips off of the sofa onto the floor, leaning into me. I wait silently, holding him against my chest, until his breathing evens out. Once he is calm enough, he pulls away from me to show me his face.

"Are you alright?" I ask softly. When I reach my hand out to his face, he moves away, standing up and walking over to the kitchen.

"I'm fine," he replies, his tone firm and distant.

With an irritated sigh, I lift myself up to follow him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You're joking, right? You're seriously going to act like you don't know?"

"Look, Potter, I know I'm miraculously talented, but Bond or no Bond, I still cannot read your bloody mind!"

"Things seemed to be going really well last night," Harry points out, pausing for a moment until he is sure that I understand the meaning of what he is referring to. "Then you suddenly just stop and roll over, completely ignoring me."

"Potter, I –"

"No, don't bother," Harry hisses, quite obviously upset. He is not yelling, but his tone is so cold and detached that it is somehow worse than if he actually was yelling. "I don't need to hear whatever excuse you've come up with for why you, once again, have decided to push me away. You cannot use your father as an excuse anymore. You cannot use your mother as an excuse. You're the one who volunteered to go through with this Bond. And yet you're still trying to pretend that you don't want this – that you don't want _me._ I'm tired, Draco. I'm tired of this. If you want to be with me, _be with me!_ If you don't, then just leave! But don't stay with me, keeping me at arm's length, and think that I'm going to put up with that!"

His words slice through my skin. Deep gashes. Burning, aching, bleeding. It makes me sick to think that I am hurting him, rejecting him, but how can I possibly explain myself to him. He is right; my parents are no longer an excuse. And I _am_ the one who volunteered to Bond with him. But he agreed to the Bond because he would have died without it, not because he wanted to be with me. Once he has recovered and the Bond is no longer necessary, he may want to leave. How am I supposed to pretend we are a happily married couple when it could all come to a crashing halt at any moment?

Before I can say a word in defense, a bright-white, translucent otter materializes in the air between us. Granger's voice emanates from the stunning creature, "_Harry, Kingsley Shacklebolt insists that he needs to speak to you and Draco immediately! He says that it is important! Meet us at the café as soon as possible!"_

We both stare as the creature disappears, leaving an uneasy silence throughout the room. Harry gives me a contemptuous look before walking back, without a single word, to the bedroom. Following him reluctantly, the two of us get dressed in silence before walking across the street to Granger's café. As soon as we walk into the doors, the tension in the air is palpable. Harry walks straight over to one of the sitting areas where Granger is waiting with an older man, both with very serious expressions. Granger pulls Harry into her arms and holds him there for a moment. The wave of relief and comfort that the hug gives Harry sends unusual warmth through my own body.

"Hello, Draco," Granger greets me, moving as if to hug me as well, but stops herself at the last minute. "Draco, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. Minister, this is Draco M – um, Draco –"

"Black," I finish for her, an unintentional bitterness in my tone. "Draco Black. Pleasure to meet you, Minister."

"Likewise, Draco," the Minister responds politely, shaking my hand with a firm grip. "Though, I must say, I wish that the meeting was under more pleasant circumstances, of course."

"What do you mean?" Harry says quietly, sitting down on one of the sofas next to Granger, who hands him a mug of what looks to be hot chocolate. As I sit on the other side of him, she hands me one as well. The Minister takes a seat in an armchair, studying Harry carefully. "What circumstances?"

"Well, I am here on behalf of the Auror Office this morning," Shacklebolt tells him grimly. "The Auror Office has been looking into your accident in Diagon Alley. Of course, you are probably aware that there has been suspicion as to whether or not the incident was actually an accident. Clearly, with you having been cursed before the building collapsed, it seemed that there was much more to the case."

"Is that what this is about? I already told the Healers everything that happened."

"I'm well aware of that. I have been provided with your statement. There has been a development in the case that requires me to ask you a few questions that you would not have answered previously. I volunteered to take the case, seeing as you have been through a lot recently and I did not want one of my Aurors coming in here pestering you. Now, Miss Granger tells me that the two of you were having lunch when you noticed Astoria there, correct?"

"Yes, sir, that's correct," Harry answers.

"And you spoke with Astoria directly while you were there?"

"Yes, in fact, after Hermione and I left, I had gone back inside to invite her to go somewhere with us when the accident happened."

"Was Astoria aware of your involvement with Draco?" the Minister asks, looking back and forth between Harry and myself. The small action, barely noticeable, makes me unnaturally nervous. Does he think that Astoria was the one who caused that accident? Does he think that _she_ tried to kill Harry? For what? Because she was jealous!? The entire conversation seems so ridiculous. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Well, she overheard Hermione and me talking, so I suppose she knew, but she didn't really know any details. Why? What does Draco have to do with this?" Harry asks, the defensive tone in his voice putting me at ease for only a moment until the Minister's next words bring all sense of calm crashing down.

"I have evidence that Draco has been involved with Astoria Greengrass." Shacklebolt stops, turning to look at me with a stern, but unreadable expression. He looks down, picking up a file folder that has been sitting on the table in front of us, and begins shuffling through the papers inside of it. After a few excruciating moments, he pulls out the sheet of paper he has been looking for and examines it. "According to this, the Aurors found evidence of your presence at Ms. Greengrass's apartment in the form of photographs and items of clothing."

The Minister looks up from his file to look at me. No question is presented, but I feel as though he is expecting me to respond, "Y-yes, I lived there with her for a couple months. I wasn't there that long."

"You lived at this apartment with her?" he repeats, taking notes of this. "When?"

"Uh, I – I lived there through May and June." So many memories and feelings come rushing back with overwhelming intensity. The meth. The sex. The argument. My head is spinning. However, there is a forced feeling of calm as Harry reaches over and takes my hand in his, despite our own argument and his frustration with me, he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand in support, giving me the strength to continue. "Um, I moved out on the first of July."

"Why did you move out?"

"We, uh, we had an argument. S-she was – we just had an argument and I left. I haven't been back to the apartment since then. We haven't had any contact."

Shacklebolt stops writing for a moment and looks up at me. He studies my face, his eyes practically burning holes in my skin. His lips are forming a tight line and his eyebrows furrow. "Draco, it is extremely important that you give me as much detail as possible. I'm sure you've been made aware that Astoria was also in the building when it collapsed?"

"Yes, sir, I'm aware. But I don't see what our break up has to do with that. It was months ago and I don't think that her sleeping with someone else is going to help you find out why a bloody building fell down –"

"Draco," Granger hisses at me sternly, implying that perhaps I should not be speaking to the Minister of Magic with such an attitude.

"No, it's alright, Miss Granger," Shacklebolt says evenly. However, he still does not address the fact that I am doubting the connection as he continues on. "Draco, you said that Ms. Greengrass was with someone else. Do you know who?"

"Why!? Why does it matter!?" I burst, finally losing my temper, unwilling to discuss my past with her any more than necessary.

"We have reason to believe that whoever this man is may be involved," he finally states. "Now, please, can you tell me anything about him?"

This sobers me instantly. Whoever the man is that ruined my relationship with Astoria could be involved in almost killing Harry. And if he thinks that Astoria was also involved in causing it, how does he fit in to this at all? Closing my eyes, I search every area of my brain for any information stored there about the man that I vividly remember seeing in bed with Astoria that day those few months ago. We met a few times, briefly, when we would go out at night for a fix. He always seemed to ignore me for the most part, which hadn't bothered me at the time.

"Er, I don't know his name," I finally say apologetically. "I didn't interact with him very often."

"But you _did_ interact with him, yes? You could identify him if you needed to?"

"Oh, yes, I could definitely do that," I say dully, his sneering face leering at me in my memory. "I know where you could probably find him. He – well – he' s a drug dealer. He usually frequents around Knockturn Alley or in the backroom at Ego."

"Ah, yes, we've had a few leads pointing us back to this nightclub. So he was her supplier then? We found some bags of it in her apartment."

"Yes, he was her supplier, or is, I'm not really sure. She won't get in trouble for this, will –"

"Actually, I can assure you that she is no longer in the position to be buying or using drugs any longer." The Minister reaches back into his file folder, pulling out something else, hesitating before holding it out to me. "I'm afraid to be the one to inform you that Astoria Greengrass is dead."

Reaching out to take what is being held out to me, I look down in my hands at the photograph of Astoria, her naked body tangled in a sheet on her bed; her brown eyes open wide – the fear in them visible even through the black and white photograph. On her throat, there is a deep, rope mark wrapping all the way around. In the corner of the photograph, on the bedside table, next to the lamp that is knocked over, is a picture of me and Astoria in a frame, the glass cracked as if it had been smashed. One of Astoria's arms is hanging over the surface of the table, making it look as if, in her last moments of life, she had been reaching for the picture.

"I-I don't understand," I croak, my voice breaking as I stare down at the horrid image.

"When the accident first occurred," Shacklebolt begins to explain slowly, his voice quiet and sympathetic, "Astoria had been a suspect. However, when the Auror team was sent to her apartment to question her, we found this. Now, normally, _you_ might have been a suspect for her murder, but we already had proof of you being at the hospital with Potter at the time the murder occurred. Which is why we are now following other leads. We think that whoever caused the accident in Diagon Alley may have been the same person who killed her. We don't think that Harry was ever actually the intended target."

"You think that this dealer was trying to kill Astoria and that hitting me was a mistake?" Harry takes over the conversation, my lack of ability to speak probably noticeable to him through our Bond. He has one of his arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me against him, and the other reaches over to stroke gently over my right forearm.

"It appears that way," the Minister confirms. "We have no other evidence to suggest otherwise. The fact that you went back into the restaurant was happenstance. No one saw anything out on the street, which suggests that the suspect was in the back of the building at the time. If you had been the intended target, the suspect would have been out in the street with you. Besides, Astoria is now deceased and no second attempt at _your_ life has been made. According to our investigation so far, Astoria was very rarely seen with other people. Which means that the list of people who would have wanted her dead includes only about three or four people. Draco, being one of them, has already been excluded."

The four of us sit in silence for a moment and I can feel all of their eyes on me. My eyes, however, are still trained on the photograph, staring down into her pale face. My body cannot decide if it wants to cry or vomit. She looks so scared. Conversation restarts around me, but the voices don't make any sense, all muffled as if I'm wearing earplugs. Harry's touch barely registers anymore. And an interesting realization enters my world – I feel the way I felt when I was on meth – empty.

The Minister of Magic insisted that he had everything he needed, allowing Harry to take me home. Granger, finally giving in to the urge to hug me, held me close to her for a long moment before sending me home with a bag of free muffins. The white bag currently sits untouched on my bedside table as I lie in bed, the blanket pulled up over my head to ensure complete darkness, and stare despondently at nothing. Distant voices indicate Harry talking to Mother out in the living room, most likely explaining the situation to her. There is no realistic sense of time in the dark hole of a world I've created for myself under my blanket, so it could have been hours before Harry finally comes into the bedroom, climbing into bed behind me.

"Draco?" he whispers softly, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Are you going to come out of there any time soon?"

I open my mouth to respond, but no sound comes out.

"Can I at least come under the blanket with you?"

My arm lifts the blanket up with a life of its own, allowing Harry to crawl under the blanket and push himself up against my back. I can feel his lips plant soft kisses on the back of my neck as he wraps his arms around me. Rolling over in his grasp, I face him, our foreheads pressed together. The cold wire of his glasses touches my face, which normally would have made me smile. But not today.

"Is this my fault?" my scratchy voice breaks into the darkness. "Did I do this?"

"_What?_ No! Draco, no!"

"I-I was upset. We were yelling at each other. We said all these horrible things. I just walked out and left her alone with him." A nauseating ache spreads throughout my whole body at the memory of our argument. If I had stayed – If I had just stayed with her – "Did I kill her?"


	5. Who Dealt the Cards

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter – Sunday, August 27th, 2000

Softly spoken words lure me out of a peaceful sleep. Draco is still curled up in my arms, the blanket over our heads – the darkness envelops us, keeping us hidden from the rest of the world, protecting us from everything else, and providing a safe haven where we can be alone together. However, the faintest hushed voice manages to break through into our secret world – Narcissa's voice.

"Your team didn't waste any time, now, did they?" Narcissa says in surprise. "You only just spoke to the boys yesterday."

"Well, we wanted to be sure that we caught the man," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice replies matter-of-factly. "We knew that once this leaked into the papers, he may disappear. We had to move fast if we wanted to catch him."

"As far as I know, the boys are still asleep. Should I wake them? I'm sure they would want to know about this."

At these words, I nudge Draco on the shoulder, shaking him out of his sleep. With an audible groan of disapproval, his eyes flutter open and he glares at me through the darkness. His scowl fades as he hears the voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

"Well, they have been through quite a lot lately, perhaps we should allow them to sleep," Kingsley says. "We can always have them come see me later when they are up to it if they prefer."

Draco and I kick the blankets off impatiently, tumbling out of bed and rushing to throw the bedroom door open – our clothes wrinkled, our hair tousled, and our eyes tired. Narcissa and Kingsley immediately look over in shock at our appearance. We don't bother to continue on with greetings and formalities. Instead, we both stumble across the room, collapsing onto the sofa, looking back and forth between the other two.

"What's going on?" I ask hurriedly. "Wake us for what?"

"Did you find out something?" Draco inquires, his tone nervous, as if he doesn't truly want to know the answer. "Is this about the case?"

Kingsley sighs heavily and takes a seat in an armchair across from us, folding his hands in his lap as he studies us both for a moment longer. "Yes, this is about the Greengrass case. I had my team of Aurors look into the tip you gave us about this drug supplier at the nightclub that you mentioned. It actually took no time at all for us to find him. Almost every person in the club was able to point him out to us with nothing else to go on but 'meth dealer.' Of course, he took off running as soon as he caught sight of us – which is never a good idea; it makes you look quite suspicious."

"But you caught him?" The hope in Draco's voice is painful to hear, especially corresponding with the whirlwind of emotions he is unable to hide from me.

"Yes, we caught him." Kingsley reaches for the file folder he had brought with him yesterday and pulls out another photograph, handing it to Draco. "Is this the man you remember?"

Draco looks down at the photograph and I can actually feel his stomach turn and his anger flare as he takes in the image of the man staring back at him. "Yes, this is him."

"His name is Kane Justice," Kingsley explains, taking the photograph back and stuffing it back into the thick file folder. "He has a previous record for possession and assault. We did not hesitate to bring him in and, with the help of a little Veritaserum, he confessed to the murder of Astoria Greengrass _and_ the incident in Diagon Alley that resulted in Potter's injuries. He has been sent to Azkaban. Of course, there will be a trial in the coming months, but it is simply a formality at this point – he is guilty as sin and there is no way that he will be able to avoid a life sentence."

"And what about Astoria's family?" Draco's voice breaks slightly as he says this. A Bond isn't necessary to know how much this is hurting him.

"According to our research, the girl's parents are no longer with us. Her older sister, Daphne, moved to Italy following her graduation from Hogwarts. Astoria has been on her own all this time. Daphne has been contacted and has agreed to make arrangements to come back as soon as possible to sort things out."

"It's a terrible shame – a girl so young," Narcissa murmurs sadly. "It just doesn't seem fair."

"Cases like this never seem fair, Ms. Black," Kingsley agrees. "Now, Draco, I have made arrangements for you to visit Astoria's flat if you wish to collect any items or be alone there for a while. The Auror that I have stationed there has already been told to let you in if you decide to show up. If there is anything you wish to keep, you may take it. Daphne intends to get rid of it all when she arrives."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Draco says, barely above a whisper.

Kingsley mutters something of an apology to the room and excuses himself, claiming he must return to the Ministry. My attention, however, is focused on Draco's solemn expression as he stares down at the floor. Narcissa walks slowly over to the sofa, kneeling down on the floor in front of her son. No one says a word. No one dares to make a sound. It is almost as if the slightest sound or movement would make the entire situation real. Instead, we sit in silence, my arms around Draco and Narcissa holding his hand.

It kills me that there isn't anything that I can do for him. It is obvious how much this is torturing him – I'm sure that he still blames himself for her death, despite all of my fruitless attempts to convince him otherwise. He is in pain and the only thing I can do is sit back and allow him to go through it. Is that the way these things are supposed to go? Am I _supposed_ to sit helplessly by, watching him suffer? Am I _supposed_ to let him process all of this on his own? What exactly is the point of me being able to _feel_ all of his pain, if there isn't anything I can do to cure it?

A few hours later, Draco agrees to go to Astoria's flat. The Auror standing guard outside of her door gives us both a polite nod, stepping aside to allow us inside. The tension that Draco is feeling is visible, displayed openly in every movement of his body. Watching him closely, I follow a step behind him as he makes his way slowly throughout the flat, neither of us making a sound. This is Draco's moment to sort through his thoughts and memories. It isn't my place to interfere. He randomly drags his fingertips over the surface of objects as he passes them by – the frame of the front door, the kitchen counter, a small end table in the living room. It isn't until he reaches the bedroom that he finally stops, standing frozen in the doorway.

The bedroom hasn't been touched or altered since the murder, with the obvious exception of removing Astoria's body. Her body outline on the bed is still there. The sheets are still tangled about on the bed. The curtains on the window have been torn and pulled down. The lamp on the nightstand is lying on its side. Draco finally steps over the threshold and into the room, crossing over to the nightstand. I remain in the doorway as I watch him. He picks up the picture frame that had fallen over. As he picks it up, shards of glass fall out of the frame onto the floor. The shards of glass are quickly followed by Draco's body, as he himself collapses to the floor, leaning back against the bed with the picture frame clutched in his hands.

"Draco," I gasp, rushing to his side and pulling him into my arms. Looking down at the photograph, the photo of Draco and Astoria is distorted by the cracked glass and the large X drawn in blood over Astoria's smiling face. I attempt to look into Draco's emotions, trying to understand what he is feeling, but there is nothing. No emotion at all.

Draco is hollow – empty – a broken shell of a person. Not even the pain he had been subjected to all morning touches him now.

Once again, I am overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. There is nothing I can do for him. Nothing at all. Gently pulling the picture frame out of his hands and placing it on the floor beside us, I pull him closer. I kiss him softly on the top of his head, over and over, hoping to sooth him somehow. Hoping to bring life back into his hollow shell. Eventually he concedes, leaning into me as if he no longer has the strength to hold his body up.

The image of our situation burns my eyes and turns my stomach. Sitting on the floor, with Draco lying down across my lap in what seems to be a state of shock, in a room where his former lover was found dead, the room itself still completely disheveled. It almost amuses me, as I find myself thinking, how angry I am at Kane Justice – and not for what he did to me, or even to Astoria, but for what he's done to Draco.

An audible sniffle comes from Draco as he struggles to sit up. He still holds on to me, resting his head on my shoulder. "She didn't deserve this."

"I know she didn't," I agree quietly, stroking his hair.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Draco says, evidence of tears in his voice. "I came home with her from Ego that night, not expecting anything that would last longer than that single night. She gave me the meth because she said it would make it all better – that it would make the pain go away. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Be like what, Draco?" I encourage him to continue soothingly, knowing that he needs to vent this, needs to get it out.

"I wasn't supposed to get caught up in the drugs. I wasn't supposed to abandon my family, sneaking out in the dead of night, to move in with a girl I hadn't seen in years. I wasn't supposed to love her. I wasn't supposed to be so upset when I saw her with that guy. I wasn't supposed to be involved in – in all of _this!_" He gestures around the room and down at the broken, bloodied photograph. "I wasn't supposed to love her. She wasn't supposed to die because of me. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

My mind repeats his words for a moment. Love her? Now is not the time to get jealous. Now is not the time to make a big deal out of this.

"The things that we said to each other that night that I left," he mumbles, so softly that it seems he was speaking to himself. Finally, he pulls away and looks at me. It takes all of my strength not to gasp at his appearance as I see him – tears streaming down his face, eyes big and bloodshot, his expression painfully helpless. "What am I supposed to do?"

Pulling Draco back into my arms, I rest my chin atop his head as I attempt to find the right words. But as I search my mind, remembering how I felt when Sirius died, it occurs to me that there are no right words. No words can ever bring them back or make it feel better. I think about Sirius for a long moment, those memories inspiring the words that begin tumbling out of my mouth.

"Draco, I don't know what to tell you. I want _so badly_ to say whatever I can to make this easier on you, but I can't. There's going to be this hole inside of you now, and it's going to be there forever and it's going to hurt like hell, and nothing that I can say is going to make that go away. Nothing that I can say will bring them back."

"Them?" Draco repeats.

"Her," I correct myself, knowing that Draco is unaware of the memories streaming through my mind. The flash of light. The blank stare. The veil. My body shivers as I shake off the thought. "Nothing that I can say will bring _her_ back, Draco, but it's going to be okay. You're going to make it through this. Some days you will wake up and it will be harder than others, but it _is_ possible. It's just going to take time for you to get over the shock and force yourself to keep moving. Because that's all you can do, Draco, is keep moving."

"How?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," I tell him truthfully.

"Well, you'll let me know when you do?"

I smile into his hair. "Of course."

We sit there in silence for several minutes, each of us travelling through our own minds, trying to make sense of everything that we have been through over the years. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever make sense. Probably not. Where would be the _fun_ in that? Do people really believe that everything happens for a reason? Going through life believing that without knowing what the reasons are? It seems a belief like that requires a lot more faith than I have at this point. I'm not even sure I know what real faith is or what it means to have it.

Draco and I must have been sitting there on the floor of the broken bedroom for a couple of hours before the Auror outside came in to check on us. As Draco assures him that everything is fine and that we will be out in a few moments, he pulls himself up off of the floor and reaches down to help me up as well. He stares around the room one last time before taking my hand and leading me out into the living room. Once again, he pauses to take a look around, then walks over to the sofa. He picks up a white blanket that had been draped over the back of the sofa, stroking his hand over it. I can feel the flood of emotions that wash over him, but the memory causing them is a mystery to me. He folds up the blanket and, clutching it tightly in his arms, walks back over to me.

"Ready to go home?" he asks, pretending to be calm and composed.

"Yeah, you sure there's nothing else you want?" I decide to make sure before we leave, knowing that this may be his only chance.

"No, this is it," he confirms, noticeably squeezing the blanket tightly.

"Alright, and you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_. And a whole lot better when I'm not talking about it."

Getting the point that he would rather avoid the conversation, I quietly lead the way back outside, turning our backs on the flat and all that it represents for the last time. As the front door shuts, Draco seems to let out a heavy sigh, squeezing the blanket again. Before I can say a word, he begins walking back down the dark corridor, unwilling to acknowledge whatever he may be feeling. Stepping out into the streets, the fresh air lightens some of the tension. The weather is perfect for our walk back home.

Despite the confessions and tears shed mere hours earlier, Draco is now once again guarded, closing himself off from me. The fact that I can feel his emotions doesn't seem to matter to him at all – he still pretends that I cannot and that he can ignore them. It is at this moment that I begin to remember why I had been so frustrated with him the day before. Will he never be willing to let me in? Will he never be willing to take down these resilient walls he has built around his heart? How long must I be willing to wait for him?


	6. Drunken Confessions

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Draco Malfoy – Monday, August 28th, 2000

The long work day is fading to a close now, the typical rush of customers that typically occurs in Mother's shop as everyone else is heading home from their jobs has died down. Harry and I have taken to helping her around the shop to keep ourselves distracted from everything going on – Astoria's death, the upcoming trial, the tension as Harry is still upset with me, and the constant prodding of his friends. The work gives us both an excuse to be near each other, for the purpose of the Bond having the necessary effect on his health, without having to actually interact with each other much.

Harry is currently sitting on a stool behind the counter with Mum, chatting casually with the lingering customers. He is still feeling a bit weak, so he spends most of the time working behind the counter where he can sit down and rest. Most of the time that includes talking to the customers and checking things off on the inventory lists. As for me, I am going back and forth from the back room to bring out items to restock the shelves, retrieve extra wrapping supplies, and subtly casting cleaning spells about the shop when no one is watching. When everything in the shop is made of glass, it takes constant cleaning charms to ensure everything is not covered in fingerprints from the Muggles who cannot restrain themselves from reaching out to touch every item they walk past.

As I come out from the back room once more, having finished stacking a collection of newly made vases on one of the storage shelves, I notice Blaise staggering into the shop. This is the first time I've seen him since we left the hospital, and I must admit, he does not look well. Upon spotting me, he reaches his arms out for me, his eyes wide.

"_Draco!_" Blaise exclaims loudly. "Whoa, I was jus' comin' to see you! And then 'ere you are!"

I clutch him in my arms, forcing him to stand upright as he continues slurring words at me in an embarrassingly loud voice. "Blaise, okay, _shh_, what the _hell?_ Are you _drunk?_"

"Jus' a lil' bit. I had a drink, _drinks_, I had a couple o' drinks. And then a couple turned into a lot."

"Alright, shut up, come on, let's go upstairs," I insist, desperate to quiet him until we are out of earshot of the few remaining customers. I motion to my mother to alert her to the situation. She nods to me in understanding as I drag Blaise upstairs into the apartment. As we tumble oh-so-gracefully into the apartment, I let go of him and allow him to fend for himself. "Blaise, what are you doing here?"

"Are you 'n' Potter Unbonded yet?" he slurs, ignoring my question as he attempts to find his way over to the sofa. "I didn' see 'im downstairs."

"He was sitting behind the counter right by the door you walked in through, Blaise. And yes, we are still Bonded. You know that the Healer said that he needed two weeks of recovery. You were there, remember? It's only been five days."

"In another week you can Unbond though, 'n' then you'll be mine again."

His last words shock me into silence, my eyes wide and fixed on him. Be his again? When the fuck was I his? I was never his! Bloody hell, Blaise! A heavy, irritated sigh escapes my throat as I turn my back on him and go to the kitchen. Leaning forward over the edge of the island counter, my head rests in the palm of my hands. What am I supposed to say to him? No matter what I say, he's probably too drunk to understand. He probably won't even remember coming here tomorrow morning. Bracing myself to turn around and face him, I straighten up, but there is a force preventing me from back up.

"I hate tha' I have to wait for you," Blaise says, standing directly behind me, pressing himself up against my back.

"Blaise, listen, you – you're confused," I try to reason with him. "We are not –"

"_Draco,_" he hisses against my ear, hands gripping firmly at my hips. Before I can process the situation, he spins me around to face him, pushing me back against the counter. Ice-cold hands slip underneath my shirt, travelling slowly up my chest. Lips and teeth latch on to my neck. My panicked attempts to shove him away prove useless. It only encourages him to push me harder against the counter. The edge of the counter pierces into my back painfully.

"_Ow_, Blaise, stop, you're _hurting_ me, _Blaise!_" Tightly clenched fists pound against his chest, trying to force him back. He continues forth – one of his hands travelling down toward the front of my trousers. There is no doubt that the panic coursing through my veins can be felt by the raven-haired boy downstairs. _Harry, help me!_

"Want you," Blaise mutters breathlessly, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. My neck aches as I pull my head back away from him, turning away and trying to put as much distance between us as possible. This is not Blaise. This is not my friend. He would never do this to me. In his drunken stupor, he struggles to undo the clasp of my trousers. He whispers something crude in my ear as I hear Harry calling me from downstairs.

"Draco!?" Harry's voice echoes in my ears. "What's going on up there!? Are you alright!?"

Blaise's hand comes down over my mouth, a wicked smile on his face. "Shh, you don't need him, Dray. He doesn't love you like I do. He can't give you what I am about to give you."

No. No! _NO!_ My magic bubbles up inside of me until it bursts, firing Blaise back across the room. He slams into the wall, knocking a portrait down, and collapses to the floor. The overuse of magic fills me with a sense of exhaustion as I slide down the side of the counter to the floor. Footsteps echo on the stairs as the commotion must have been loud enough to gain the attention of those downstairs. The front door flies open and Harry and my mother rush into the apartment. Harry is at my side immediately, pulling me into his arms. He never fails, no matter how upset with me he may have been moments before, to pull me close when I need him.

Mother goes to Blaise, kneeling down next to him, her wand out and scanning over him. "He's been hit with an extremely powerful Stunning Spell. What happened up here, Draco?"

No words come to mind as I clutch Harry's shirt. What am I supposed to tell her? My best friend that we've known for almost all my life got drunk and tried to rape me? There is no way I could tell her that. So, what do I say? She seems to accept my lack of response, levitating Blaise and moving him over to the sofa. Harry, however, is not so ready to accept my silence. His fingertips trace softly down my neck, his jaw clenched tight.

"You have teeth marks on your neck," he informs me sternly, his eyes burning into me as I avoid his gaze. A warm tingling sensation spreads across my neck, traces of healing magic flitting across my skin. The dull pain that had previously been there as evidence of the bite marks disappears. He brings his voice down to a whisper so that Mother does not hear, "You want to tell me what was _really_ going on up here? And don't even _think_ about lying to me because I felt what you were feeling. What happened, Draco? Did he hurt you?"

"H-he's just drunk," I reply, an equal amount of secrecy in my hushed tone. "He didn't know what he was doing. He would never intentionally hurt me."

"That's not what I asked you. I asked you what happened."

"It doesn't matter what happened. It was just the alcohol doing all that stuff."

"Draco, I –"

"I don't want to talk about this! Leave it alone!"

Harry remains kneeling on the floor as I pull myself up and close myself off in the bedroom. That didn't just happen. It wasn't real. Blaise would never do something like that to me. Maybe I misinterpreted what he was doing. Maybe it really was just the alcohol. He would never hurt me. He's my best friend. It wasn't real. It wasn't him.

After a couple of hours, there is a soft knock on my bedroom door as a quick warning before the door opens. Blaise is the face that appears on the other side. He seems to have been sobered up, having regained his composure. He slips into the room and closes the door behind him. It makes my stomach turn to realize that the idea of being alone with him in a closed room makes me extremely anxious. I'm not supposed to be nervous around him. He's the one who helped me move all of my stuff into this very room we are standing in now. And yet, somehow it seems as though this is the first time I have ever been alone with him, ever really seen him.

"Hey, Dray," Blaise says softly, an obvious look of trepidation on his face as he takes a few steps toward me. "So, I just woke up in your living room and Narcissa gave me a Cleansing Potion. I don't even remember how I got here. She says that you didn't tell her anything. Draco, what happened? What did I do? I don't even remember coming here or talking to you."

So, I had been correct in my earlier assumption that he would not remember what had happened. How fortunate that Harry healed the bite marks on my neck and the bruising on my back from the kitchen counter is hidden beneath my shirt. There is no evidence of what really happened if I decide not to tell him. And why should I tell him? So that we _both_ can live with the consequences of the memory? On the other hand, doesn't he have a right to know what he did?

"Draco, are you even listening to me?" Blaise breaks my thought process. He reaches his hand out to me and, without even thinking, I step back away from him. The hurt expression on his face confirms that he truly must not know what he did. "What's wrong? You seem scared of me. Draco, did I hurt you or something?"

"Blaise, maybe it's for the best that you don't remember what happened," I tell him simply.

"Then I _did_ hurt you. Draco, I have to know what I did. You know that I would never – I mean, I couldn't possibly – you know how much I care for you."

"I know. In fact, that might be part of the problem. Blaise, you've been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You know that you're friendship has always been important to me. But I don't feel the same way about you that you do for me. I'm sorry, part of me wishes that I did, but I don't. Perhaps it would all be so much easier if I loved you back and we could live happily ever after, but life just doesn't work that way. I can't control who I have feelings for, or who I don't."

"Draco, you are my life – my whole world. I'm in love with you. I've _always_ been in love with you. I know that you can't control how you feel, but neither can I. I can't force myself to stop loving you."

"I don't expect you to try. But I also don't want you to try to force me to love you back."

"I would never – hold on, are you saying I tried to _force_ you to – wait, Draco, I –"

"It doesn't matter what happened now, Blaise, alright? It's over. You don't remember and I'm trying to forget about it, so let's just leave it at that and move on."

There is a long moment of silence as Blaise attempts to process the few puzzle pieces that he has and figure out the final image they create. Of course he understands what this all means. Even though he doesn't remember, he is intelligent enough to figure out what he did. The air in the room feels colder than usual. Then again, so does our friendship. Walking around the bed to the other side of the room, I pretend to be tidying things up as an excuse to put more distance between us. As I begin to aimlessly pick up clothes from the floor and messily fold them up and toss them onto the chair in the corner of the room, I notice something else.

On the floor, hidden underneath a couple of tshirts and trousers, is a sketchpad with the small drawings I had been working on only a couple of nights ago. Picking up the sketchpad, I admire the sketches of Harry scattered all about the page – realistic Harry, cartoon Harry, anime Harry, etc. – they all smile up at me with the same dorky glasses and messy hair shaded to life with my pencil. The real Harry is more than likely sitting out in the living room with Mother, discussing in hushed tones what they think happened earlier and what may be going on at this moment.

"Draco, what do you want me to do?" Blaise finally says, unable to continue on through the silence any longer.

"What do you mean?" I ask absent-mindedly, not even lifting my eyes from the boy on the paper.

"I mean, what do you want me to do about us? I am in love with you and I can't make that go away. And I can't just pretend that my feelings aren't there." Blaise crosses the room in only a few steps, closing the distance between us. His hands are gripping my shoulders as he stares into my eyes. "Draco, I love you!"

Glancing back down at the drawings and then back up at Blaise, I'm filled with a sense of helplessness at the lack of control I have over my emotions. "I'm sorry, Blaise. But – I love –"

"Potter," Blaise finishes for me bitterly. "Of course. I should've known. It's always all about _Harry Potter!_"

"It's not like that –"

"Of course it is! It's always been like that! Ever since you met that little freak he is all you ever think about! First year you got detention for following him around after hours, but you didn't care because you got to spend your detention time _with_ him! Third year you spent practically every second messing with him and talking about him."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"And what about telling your aunt, Bellatrix, that you didn't recognize him even though you did. It's obvious you did. You spent enough time staring at him to recognize him through a pathetic Stinging Jinx! You may have pretended that it was all about bullying him and hating him, but I know you better than that. It was all just an act so that you had an excuse to _obsess_ over him. And now you're _still_ revolving your life around him."

"Have you forgotten that _you_ are the one who brought him to me!? _You're_ the one who begged him to help me!"

"I wanted him to help you get better! I didn't want you to _marry_ him!"

"He was going to die without this Bond, what was I supposed to do!?"

"Let Granger do it! I'm sure that's how he would have preferred it anyway! You say that you love him, Draco? Well, I bet that as soon as the Healer says that he is fully recovered, he won't hesitate to schedule an Unbonding Ceremony. He doesn't actually want to be Bonded to you."

"DON'T YOU THINK I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT!? DON'T YOU THINK THAT IS _ALL_ I THINK ABOUT!? I KNOW THAT THIS BOND IS FOR HIS HEALTH AND NOTHING MORE! I KNOW THAT HE WILL PROBABLY LEAVE AS SOON AS HE GETS THE CHANCE! DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME AS IF I DON'T KNOW!" I pause for a moment, realizing that there is no doubt Harry can hear every word being said, but Blaise, either not noticing or caring, continues on.

"THEN YOU SHOULD LEAVE NOW! LEAVE HIM FIRST! YOU KNOW THAT HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU! BUT I DO, DRACO! _I DO!_ YOU SHOULD BE WITH _ME!_"

"Blaise, _please_," I mutter hopelessly, pleading with him. I don't have the strength to argue with him over this any longer. It hurts enough to know that Harry will leave as soon as he recovers, but to hear it aloud is worse. Despite all of that, I can't bring myself to leave him. I have to stay with him, just in case, holding on to the last bit of hope that I have left.


	7. Weasley in Wonderland

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter – Tuesday, August 29th, 2000

Draco had gone straight to bed last night after Blaise left without speaking a single word to anyone. He knows that I heard what they were saying about me and I'm sure he didn't want to argue with me about it. However, I have no intention of arguing about it. I climbed into bed with him last night, without saying a word, and held him all night. I can't help but feel a little guilty. I've been so upset with him, but I didn't understand. All this time, the reason he's been pulling away is because he's afraid that _I'm_ going to leave _him_.

The sun is shining through the window, causing Draco's bright blond hair to shimmer. The words of the argument overheard last night continue to filter through my mind as I pull myself out of the bed, careful not to wake Draco. Quietly pulling clothes on and shuffling out toward the kitchen, I wonder what is going to happen next. The first week of recovery is almost over and there will be one week left to go. What's going to happen when our time is up?

"Harry?" Narcissa's voice hisses through the fog of my subconscious. My eyes snap upward to see her standing behind the kitchen counter, frantically shrugging on a pale blue cardigan and pulling her hair back into a messy bun. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," I answer instinctively. "Are _you_ alright? You look a little stressed out."

"One of my employees, Kendra, was supposed to help me open the shop this morning, but she just called and said that she can't come in. Apparently her sister has just gone into labor and she needs to be at the hospital with her. Now I have to open the shop by myself and I'm running late."

"Oh, well, er, I can help you with the shop," I offer, somewhat shyly, still not completely sure how my relationship with Narcissa is supposed to work.

"Harry, you don't need to do that. You can stay up here with Draco and rest."

"Draco's still asleep. Besides, I bored with resting. If I was any more rested, I'd be dead. I don't mind helping out, especially after everything you've done for _me_."

She smiles at me, defeated, and motions for me to follow her downstairs. The small spiral staircase leads down into the storage room at the back of the store, cluttered with boxes stacked up in tall towers about the room. These boxes were not here yesterday. Narcissa ignores the boxes, explaining that they are simply more supplies for the shop – extra supplies for making more products, more price tags, and other things to keep the store running smoothly. As we make our way into the front of the shop, the day is alive and busy outside the large windows.

The best thing about the shop is that everything in here – the vases, the dishes, the figurines – all of it is made out of glass. When the sun shines in through the windows, it bounces off of everything in the shop, causing beautiful patterns to be projected onto the floor and walls. It makes the entire store look like some sort of magical wonderland in the middle of an otherwise plain Muggle street. And considering that the shop is run by a witch and her wizard son, that's exactly what it is – a magical wonderland.

Working in the shop is quiet and calm, as always. The customers are always kind and prone to polite, small talk as they admire the different items on the shelves. I now know my way around well enough to make recommendations and help people pick things out. And whenever there it is empty, there is always Narcissa to talk to. However, after the lunch rush dies down and we are restocking the shelves, Hermione comes into the store.

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione exclaims cheerfully, throwing her arms around me. "How are you feeling? I wanted to come see you yesterday, but Parvati insisted that I let you rest."

"I'm fine, Hermione," I tell her, growing slightly irritated by the question. Of course, I know they all mean well and are concerned, but it is exhausting to be asked if I'm okay thirty times a day. "I was just saying this morning that I'm through with resting. I've had enough rest."

"Are you working right now?" She glances around the empty shop, then at the box at my feet of new items to be put on the shelves.

"Yeah, one of the employees couldn't come in today, so I'm helping out. Why? What's going on?"

"Well, I was hoping you could come over to the café for a few minutes. There's someone who really wants to see you. Do you think you could take a break?" It isn't until now that I see how nervous she seems. Her fingers are twirling around in her hair and she is biting lightly at her lower lip. She keeps leaning back and forth from one foot to the other.

"Hermione, what's going on?"

"Ron is here," she sighs. "He wanted it to be a surprise, but you seem to be stubborn today. George sent him a letter and told him about what happened to you. He came back to see you."

"_Ron?_ Ron's here?" I repeat in shocked disbelief. Spinning around to look at Narcissa, who is already smiling at me, clearly having been eavesdropping, I can barely process my thoughts. "Is it alright if I take a break?"

"Of course, go on," Narcissa says kindly. "Take all the time you need."

"Thanks, Mum," I say, already making my way for the door.

"As long as you're back in ten minutes."

Looking back over my shoulder at Narcissa, I see her wink at me before returning to the boxes in front of her. Hermione is at my heels as I walk quickly across the street to the café. As I burst through the door, I'm overwhelmed with the silence in the room as everyone turns to look at me. Sure enough, Ron Weasley is sitting in the middle of the crowd in one of the armchairs. He stands up when he sees me, walking across the room. There is a moment of awkward silence, standing there staring at each other, before he reaches out and hugs me.

"Hiya, Harry," Ron murmurs, releasing me. "Hermione filled me in on the details. I'm glad that you're okay."

All of the nervous tension that had been balled up inside me is released at his words. He didn't ask if I was okay. He acknowledged that I am. Without a word, I pull him back into another hug. Hermione grabs both of us, dragging us over to the sofas where everyone else is waiting. Neville, Luna, Parvati, and George are all reaching out to greet me, this being the first time they've seen me since I left the hospital. Sitting down on one of the sofas, Hermione on my left and Ron on my right, things feel so normal, and yet not. This _should_ be normal. This is the way things used to be. Maybe the past isn't normal anymore.

"So, you're Bonded to Draco Malfoy, eh?" Ron finally blurts, getting straight to the point. "How did you end up in _that_ alternate reality?"

"Well, Hermione and I were having lunch in Diagon Alley," I begin evenly. "Then the white rabbit with the pocket watch ran by, and when I chased it I fell down a hole, and now here I am."

Hermione laughs, wrapping her hands around my arm. However, no one else understands the reference and simply stares at me with confused expressions.

"Welcome to Wonderland, Ronald," Hermione breathes through her soft giggles.

"_What?_" Ron stares at us both blankly.

Ignoring the confusion and deciding to change the subject, I continue on, "So, when are you heading back to Paris?"

Ron's eyebrows disappear behind his hair. He straightens up and smiles. "Actually, I have some news of my own to share with you. When I told my boss that I was coming back here to see you, he mentioned that the company has an opening here. So if I want to, he says he can have me transferred back here. Then I won't be going back, well, except to get my stuff."

"Wait, so you might be moving back home!?" Hermione squeals, gripping my arm tighter.

"Wow, little brother," George scoffs, "you think that you'd tell us that before."

"I wanted to wait until Harry was here," Ron defends himself. "Besides, I haven't technically decided yet, so the transfer isn't official or anything. It's only a possibility."

"What do you mean you haven't _decided_ yet?" Hermione inquires sharply.

"Well, this is my career, I have to at least take some time to think about it, don't I?"

"What is there to think about!? It is the same job you had in Paris, only it is _here_ where your friends and family are!? You went to Paris for the opportunity to gain experience and contacts. You've _done _that. Now you have the experience to be successful _here_ and the same company you're already working for is giving you the _opportunity_ to do that!"

By Hermione's shrill tone, it is obvious that she is upset about this. Ever since Ron left for Paris, she has been telling herself and everyone else that it was only temporary. She insisted that as soon as he could he would come back to be with us again. It appears, by the look on her face now, that she had been counting on that more than she led on. Me, on the other hand, well, I can't say that I'm surprised that he isn't so ready to move back and forget all about Paris. He's been living there long enough that he probably has a whole new life, new friends, to take into consideration.

"It's just that I'm in a really good rhythm with everyone at the office," Ron attempts to make his case calmly. "I've worked really hard to get where I am today and I'm not sure that it will be that easy to establish the same relationships with my colleagues at the offices here."

Tears are welling in Hermione's eyes now, but she holds her head up high and stands her ground, refusing to fall apart over him. "You _promised_ me that you would come back."

"T-that was a long time ago. I had no idea what was going to happen. I thought that you would understand how important my career is to me."

"But you are going to be working the same job, for the same company! It's not like you're going to have to start from the bottom again!"

George, Neville, Parvati, and Luna are exchanging uncomfortable glances as Ron and Hermione argue. No one dares to interrupt Hermione or attempt to defend Ron. Instead, we all sit in silence, most likely each trying to come up with an excuse to leave. Luckily, there aren't that many other customers in the café to be disturbed.

"Look, I didn't say that I was definitely going back!" Ron tells her heatedly. "I only said that I need to give it some thought before I decide!"

"How can you –!" Hermione starts, but is cut off by another voice.

"_Christ!_" the voice says from behind the sofa. Draco walks around the sofa and into our line of sight. "Would you two shut the fuck up? You're in a public place, for Merlin's sake. It is in incredibly bad taste to have such a loud argument in front of complete strangers. And, if you haven't noticed, you're making your friends uncomfortable."

Everyone except for Ron and Hermione look over at Draco with grateful relief on their faces. Hermione looks somewhat embarrassed as she realizes the truth in Draco's words, looking down at her hands. Ron, however, has no distinguishable expression as he stares up at Draco. We are all waiting for the bomb to go off – to see what will happen next as Draco and Ron stare each other down. Draco is the first to break their eye contact, reaching his hands out for me to take. Slipping my hands into his, I allow him to pull me up from the sofa and into his arms.

"Now, I'm here to take him back home," Draco states dryly. He pulls out a beautiful, silver pocket watch from his coat pocket. It takes all of my self-control not to laugh at the irony of him having a pocket watch and white-blond hair. Draco Malfoy – the boy that I chased down the whole into this strange land.

"You mean you actually want to spend time with me now," I say sarcastically. "Curiouser and curiouser."

Once again, Hermione is the only one who laughs. It's moments like this where I wonder how different my life would be if Hermione had been there when I was growing up in the Muggle world. Although, I'm sure that the Dursleys would never have approved of me having a friend, even if they thought she was a Muggle.

"Potter, don't be a shit and just come home with me," Draco hisses in my ear. "We need to talk."

There is no doubt that Draco can feel the spike of anxiety that floods through my veins at his words. Nothing good ever follows the words "we need to talk." It is a basic rule of relationships. Does this have something to do with what happened with Blaise yesterday? Maybe he knows that I overheard them. But I never said anything or hinted that I heard them. Though, he's not an idiot. Perhaps it has something to do with Ron being back. They've always hated each other. But Draco didn't start anything with him when he came in here. Damn, I think I'd rather sit here and listen to Ron and Hermione argue.

No such luck. Draco holds onto my wrist tightly, leading me out of the café and back across the street. When we enter the shop, Narcissa calls over to me that Charlotte is here for her shift and I can go back over to my friends. If only I could. Draco drags me to the back and up the stairs to the apartment. My heart is racing and my stomach is in knots – and the worst part of that is that he knows. Even through the Bond, he is completely unreadable.

He turns me toward him, grasping both of my wrists in his hands and walking me backward toward the wall. Finally, I hit the wall, my back pressed into the large dent where Blaise had flown against it. Draco lifts my arms and pushes my wrists back against the wall.

"You know that I'm going to have to choose between you and Blaise," Draco says, his voice low and rough. His face is hovering mere inches from mine.

"Draco, I'm sorry," I whisper against his lips. "I never wanted to cause you so much trouble. I never wanted you to have to choose between me and anyone. Not Blaise. Not your father."

"This isn't about my father," he growls hotly.

"You're right, it's not. It's about us." I sigh heavily. "Draco, I heard you and Blaise arguing last night. Blaise really loves you –"

"But I don't love him, not that way."

"That doesn't mean that you should have to give up your friendship with him. You two have been friends almost your entire life. I couldn't possibly stand in the way of that."

"You seem like you really _want_ me to choose him."

"_No,_ I _don't._ Dammit, Draco, I've had enough of this!" Yanking my wrists free, I shove him backward away from me. "How long is this going to go on!? How long are you going to keep pushing me away because you think you're not good enough!? How long are you going to keep up this pathetic façade that you don't give a shit about anything because you're too piss in your pants afraid of getting hurt!? I'm tired of sitting here, waiting for you, hoping that one day you'll get over this. You think that you're not good enough for me to want to be with you."

"So, what are you saying, Potter?"

"I'm saying that I'm going to be fully recovered soon. And then we're going to have a decision to make. And we can't make it if you refuse to man up and be honest with me."


	8. Verdict

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Draco Malfoy – Thursday, September 7th, 2000

"How much longer are we going to have to sit here?," I groan impatiently. Mother and I have been sitting in the hospital waiting room for what feels like hours. The Healer took Harry back into one of the rooms for scans and all sorts of magical tests to be one hundred percent certain that he is fully recovered. You would think that because the tests are magical – they would magically be conducted faster. I thought so, too. Not the case. So, instead, we get to sit in the waiting room until we decompose.

Interesting – there has never been a more appropriately named room. A waiting room: where the entire purpose of the room is for people to wait. I mean, a bathroom has more in it than a bathtub. A bedroom has more than a bed. But a waiting room is exactly what is implies to be – a room to wait in. Perhaps they were unable to come up with a more allusive name for it. Perhaps whoever came up with the name for every other room is simply over-complicating things. Or perhaps I've been sitting here staring at the walls for far too long to be having such a pointless mental tirade.

"Be patient, Draco," Mother hisses at me out of the corner of her mouth. "You want to be sure that he's alright, don't you? I would think that his health and safety are well worth the wait."

"If they don't move any faster, he'll probably die in there anyway – of _old age!"_

"Oh, hush. It hasn't been _that_ long."

One of these days, I'm going to create a thing called "The Never Waiting Room." As soon as you enter the room, you are allowed to leave. The room won't even have chairs, because they would never be used. Chairs are simply things used to assist in the task of waiting. You sit in chairs while waiting to finish eating. You sit in chairs while you wait to finish reading the next chapter of a book. And you sit in what is always an uncomfortable chair while in a bloody waiting room. I _hate_ waiting.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Black, Mr. Black," the Healer greets us as she walks slowly across the glistening, white floor toward us, Harry at her heels. "I have wonderful news for you both. We have run every possibly test –"

_"I'll say,"_ I mutter miserably under my breath.

" – and can safely assure you that Harry has recovered flawlessly. He's going to be just fine. Feel free to take him home. And as for the two of you," she gestures to me and then to Harry, "you both may feel free to request an Unbonding Ceremony whenever you like."

My heart seems to plummet into my stomach at her last words. So this is really it. It's finally time. Too fast, too fast – it all went by too fast. I need to go back and do it again, do it right. Why did I push him away when I only had such a short time? It might have been my only chance. How could I do something so utterly idiotic!?

"Thank you very much, Healer Genevieve," Mother says politely, reaching out to Harry, who goes straight to her side. Mother puts her arms around his shoulders, steering him towards the exit. Blindly following close behind them, my heart seems to have stopped beating, completely numb. However, there is a profound happiness deep down somewhere as well, and it takes me a moment of confusion before I realize that the happiness I feel is not my own. I can't even bear to contemplate what his happiness could mean.

After we arrive back home, I go straight to the bedroom, closing the door behind me, while Harry is out in the living room being obsessed over by my mother. Collapsing onto the bed, I bury my face into the pillows. What's going to happen now? My entire life has been completely turned around because of him, and now he could be leaving. My father wants nothing to do with me. My friendship with Blaise will never be the same after what happened. I haven't even heard from Pansy since I moved out of Blaise's flat. Of course, I still have my mother, and I know that I can get on with my life very well with her. But everything that I have known aside from her is different now. It didn't seem that important when Harry was here, but now that he might be leaving, it suddenly seems quite overwhelming.

The bedroom door creaks as it slowly opens and a small beam of light floods into the room, then clicks closed once more. The softest of footsteps pad across the carpet until I feel the bed sink lower next to me. A gentle hand weaves itself through my hair. If the hand belonged to my mother, a voice would be accompanying it. However, the only sound to be heard is barely audible breathing.

"Draco?" Harry finally whispers against my ear. "Draco, please look at me."

The sound of his voice is almost unbearable. Unfortunately, it's also impossible to resist. Obeying his request, I roll over onto my side so that I can look up into his face. It surprises me when I see how close his face is to mine. He crawls into the bed with me, lying on his side and facing me. He simply blinks at me for a moment, observing my face thoroughly.

"I think it's time for us to have a talk," he says quietly, a thin layer of sadness in his voice.

"The Healer said we can Unbond now," I mutter dully, the words seeming to cause my throat to close up a bit.

"Well, we do have a choice. We're allowed to decide for ourselves if that is what we want."

Heart pounding. Hands sweating. Stomach twisting. This may be my last and only chance to talk to him like this. This is not the time to hold back. "Is that what you want, then?"

"Honestly, I don't know what I want," Harry begins cautiously. "The entire idea of being married at my age seems a bit insane. And the fact that we weren't even together before we were Bonded means that I'm not certain if this is going to work. I don't know how this is supposed to affect the rest of my life or my friendships. I don't know what to expect. But what I do know is that I'm happier here with you than I've ever been. I know that I feel closer to you than anybody else. I know that I feel more like myself with you than I do when I'm with anyone else, even alone with myself. And I know that you're holding back on me. I know that there is a lot that you're not telling me. And I know that we can never make this work if you don't start talking."

This is it. It's now or never. If I don't get over my fear of rejection now, I'll lose him for sure. At least if I try, I've got a chance. Without even thinking about it, my hand reaches up and caresses the side of his face, even tracing the wire of his glasses. How can I even put my jumbled thoughts and feelings into words? How do I make them something real? It can't be _that_ hard. I think these thoughts all the time. All I have to do now is say them out loud.

"After the war, I was in so much pain. And I thought that nothing would ever make that go away. I thought that I was going to die from the intensity of it all. And then you walked through that door, determined to fix me, and all of that pain from the war disappeared into nothing. And yet, I'm still in pain, every single time that I see you or touch you."

The look of puzzlement on his face amuses me as he misunderstands my words. For a moment, he seems almost offended and as if he is trying to decide whether or not to pull away from me. Grasping his hand tightly, I hold him in place. This is my moment. My only chance. I cannot let him leave.

"Every time I see your face, or hear your voice, or touch your smooth skin or soft hair, it hurts. It hurts in a way that I never knew was possible. My yearning to keep you causes the most painful ache in my chest that never seems to fade."

The relief is back, this time displayed on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again, nibbling at his bottom lip as he waits for me to continue. Awaiting my next words, he slithers closer to me, resting his head in the crook of my neck.

"It hurts, Potter. That's how I know that I love you. That's how I know that we're meant to be together."

"I wouldn't have thought you would believe in something like that. It seems way too fairytale-ending for your taste."

"I never believed it in the past. But the pain is real, this," I squeeze him tighter against me, "is real. It seems to pathetic and childish, like some horribly written love story – which is probably why I was never able to say it before. It sounded too ridiculous. But it's real."

"So, what does this mean, Draco?" Harry asks, his question barely making a sound. "Does this mean that we are staying Bonded?"

"It means that you _belong_ here and I won't ever let you leave."

Without warning, Harry seems to come to life, a vivacious fire burning inside of him, spurring him on. He pushes me onto my back and clambers on top of me – his mouth on mine. His behavior suggests that he approves of my statement. His shaky hands are scrambling at my shirt, desperately trying to tear it off of me. However, he seems to be struggling.

"Ugh, _fuck this!_" he growls, waving his wand aggressively, causing both of our clothes to disappear and then reappear neatly folded on the chair in the corner of the room. We are both completely naked and exposed to each other, and yet it doesn't seem to be as vulnerable as it would usually be. His hands are on me again, but I quickly grab them and force him back down onto his back on the bed.

"No, wait, stop," I murmur, holding his hands away from me. "I don't want to rush this. I've waited too long for you to just let this moment go by so fast. I want to cherish this. I want to memorize every single line and curve, every tiny detail of your body."

Trailing my fingertips slowly across his skin, barely touching him, down his chest, over his stomach, over his hip and thigh – he trembles underneath the touch, a light whimper escaping his lips as his bites down mercilessly on his bottom lip. I allow my fingertips to trace over every inch of skin they can reach, memorizing every detail as I promised. Every tremor of his body makes my heart stop.

Harry's eyes seem to darken with the heat that I can feel spreading throughout both of our bodies. My heart begins racing with anticipation as he reaches his hands up to hold my face. He holds me there, our faces mere inches apart, and stares at me with an intensity that makes my whole body feel weak. I think I forgot how to breathe! How do I breathe again? But it doesn't matter, because Harry captures my lips with his, his warm breath filling up my lungs, breathing life into me, his life. A moan escapes from deep within my throat, my entire body weakening further, collapsing into his. He moves his arms down around me, pressing his hands firmly against my back, holding me up steady against his chest. The anticipation is replaced with pure joy like I have never felt before, my heart seeming to sing.

With a devilish smile, I take Harry's bottom lip between my teeth, biting it softly and sliding my tongue across it torturously slow, teasing. Gripping his hips firmly, I roll our bodies until I am laying fully on him. Pulling my head back, waiting for a sign of approval, I receive a mischievous grin as confirmation. Our lips join, softly sliding over each other, our noses rubbing together. I can feel the cold wire of his glasses against my forehead – that only makes it better because it's proof that it's him.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask breathlessly between kisses.

"Shut up, Draco," Harry mumbles against my mouth, taking my hand and moving it down over his side to his hip.

"I just wanted to ma – _mmph!_" My words are silenced by his fervent kiss – a kiss that seems to affect my very being down to the core – morphing my bones, my soul, until I'm something new. And I am something new, something better, something maybe even _good_ if I dare use such a word.

Harry is holding tightly onto my sides as I hover over him, our lips still locked in a passionate kiss. His emotions are flooding through me one after the other – overwhelmed, excited, scared – but they never hold him back. Continuing the kiss, my hand reaches down to prepare him, causing him to tense slightly and the small jolt of fear to return. As much as I would like to pretend that I am calm and ready to shag him into oblivion, I'm a bit afraid as well. This is so much more than anything I've ever done before. He is so much more precious than anyone else. The fear that I might ruin it, or even hurt him is stressful. However, my nerves seem to relax as his body does the same.

Deep, slow breaths come from the boy beneath me as he attempts to steady himself, punctuated by an occasional moan. Pulling back to look at him, I see that his eyes are shut tight. When he notices that my preparation has ceased, he peeks one eye open to look up at me. All I can manage to do is smile down at him. His returning smile looks almost shy, embarrassed, and his cheeks turn a light shade of red.

"What?" he asks, his voice a bit more rough than usual.

"Nothing," I laugh, shaking my head before leaning down to kiss him again. After coaxing the deep moan from his throat I had been waiting for, I pull our lips apart, but only barely. "Ready?"

His sharp intake of breath indicates that he might not be, but he nods slowly instead. "J-just go slow, okay?"

As he wishes, I take my time, stopping every so often to make sure he is alright before continuing forward. Once I am fully inside of him, I stop and wait, allowing him to get used to the feeling. Normally, this would be the part where I'm amazed at how suddenly close I feel to the person I am with – yet at this moment, I'm amazed at how normal this already feels, at how close we already were before. This is a high unlike anything I've ever felt before. Not even the best quality chalk could come close to this. There is no way I could ever go back.

Harry's body finally relaxes as I start to move, his fingertips absently stroking up and down my arm that is holding me up. In only a matter of seconds, his hand flies out to the nightstand for his wand, and he quickly breathes out a Silencing Charm around us before dropping his wand to the floor. As soon as the magical barrier is put in place, he demonstrates a proper reason for putting it there. A long moan will draw out as I pull back, but be cut off by a sharp intake of breath once I push back in. I reach up and pull of his glasses, tossing them gently onto the nightstand. He doesn't even seem to notice. All that is real now is the pleasure rising and the room spinning.

The heat is almost unbearable. Yet the sweat dripping slowly down the arch of my back feels cold. Harry is moving with me now, a perfect rhythm, perfect match. I cannot tell any longer where my pleasure ends and his begins. Are these emotions his or mine? Are we even still two different people anymore? Who is who? It doesn't matter. Because we're both getting closer. Closer to the edge. Closer to the end. Closer to each other.

My whole world seems to be getting smaller. Smaller. Brighter. Hotter. Spinning faster. Burning. Sweating. Trembling. Thrusting. Moaning. Heartbeat racing. Pulse pounding. Blood coursing. Closer. Closer. So good, _so good._ Almost painful. Pleasure rising. Rising. Higher. Higher.

_"Draco!" "Harry!"_


	9. And The Winner Is

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter – Friday, September 8th, 2000

Waking up to the sun shining brightly through the window, my mind slowly begins to process my surroundings. Draco and I, still completely naked, are entangled around each other. The blankets are wrapped snuggly around us, seeming to hold us even closer together. The warmth is like nothing else I've ever felt before – a level of comfort and safety that I could never have imagined possible. If only we could stay in this bed forever, without having to worry about anything else. Unfortunately, the rest of the world will continue to go on without us.

Draco is holding on to me tightly from behind, planting soft kisses on the back of my neck. He nuzzles his face into my hair lazily, still half asleep. His body presses more firmly against mine as he stretches, forcing himself to wake up with a low groan. Reaching over to the nightstand, I feel around for my glasses and put them on. Details of the room now becoming clear, my mind begins racing with memories of last night and thoughts of what might happen in the future – our future. Everything is going to be different now.

"Good morning, Draco," I murmur sleepily, a pathetic, satisfied smile on my face.

"Morning," Draco yawns, his face still buried in my hair.

"Are you awake yet?"

"No," he groans.

"Could you be awake?" Rolling over in his arms, I brush his hair out of his face. "Come on, let's go over to the café for breakfast. Don't you want some breakfast?"

Pale, grey eyes blink at me, processing the information. Without even responding, he begins to slip out of the bed slower than a glacier and stumbles over toward the wardrobe. Taking this opportunity to admire his body, I watch him closely – the way his muscles flex as he moves about the room, the way his pale skin looks like stone, the wonderful marks made by my own teeth and nails last night scattered across his neck, back, and arms. However, my admiration is interrupted by a t-shirt being thrown at my face.

"Get a move on, Potter!" Draco growls. "It was _your_ bloody idea to get out of bed and go get food. So don't spend all morning faffing about!"

"Alright, alright! I'm going," I assure him, quickly pulling the shirt on over my head. Reaching for the pants and pair of jeans thrown on the end of the bed for me, I watch him lace up his boots. A shiver runs up my spine as I picture those same long, pale fingers touching me. By the time I finally finished getting ready, he is leaning against the doorframe, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor, a perfectly shaped brow raised.

"Are we finally looking perfect now, Princess?" he says smugly.

"I didn't take _that_ long." I give him a playful shove as I pass him to leave the room. "Besides, you spend _way_ more time on your looks than I do."

"Whoa, let's stop now before things get ugly. I wouldn't want you to have to start all over. We'd never get out of here."

Draco and I continue to playfully push and shove each other as we make our way downstairs into the shop. As we approach the bottom of the stairs, I give him an extra shove until he stumbles down the last couple of steps and barely manages to keep his balance as he crashes into the storage room. Narcissa is unpacking boxes and looks up in surprise as the commotion. She raises an amused eyebrow at his disheveled appearance.

"Well, you're very graceful," she laughs pleasantly.

"He _pushed_ me!" Draco shouts, wheeling around to point an accusing finger at me.

With my best fake-offended tone with a hint of innocent expression, I deny the accusation. "I would never do such a thing! You don't have to be ashamed, Draco. We won't tell anyone that you tripped."

"But – but I didn't – you –!" he stammers, staring at me in disbelief.

"Draco and I are going across the street to get some breakfast," I tell Narcissa, ignoring his continued stuttering. "Do you want us to bring you anything?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart," she insists. "I'm fine."

"Alright, we'll see you later."

"HOLD IT!" she echoes throughout the storage room, halting us both. "Don't the two of you have something you would like to tell me?"

Draco and I exchange confused glances, unsure what her meaning is. Was there something we were supposed to tell her? There must be something we're forgetting. The stern expression on her face hardens and her hand rests on her hip. Her cold eyes look back and forth between the two of us. Eventually, seemingly giving up on any hope she once had in our intelligence, she rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

"Are you still my son, Harry, or not?" she asks impatiently.

"_Oh!" _Draco and I exclaim in unison. At that moment, no verbal answer is even necessary as we both cannot suppress the oversized smiles that spread across our faces.

"Yes, Mum, I am," I finally tell her.

"_Really!?_" she squeals, lunging across the room toward me, capturing me in an overpowering embrace. She holds me close to her for a long time, but I don't much mind. "Oh, I'm _so_ happy! I think it's wonderful that the two of you deciding to stay together. I was hoping you would."

"Mum, can we go eat now?" Draco whines, his cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment. With a simple eye roll, Narcissa releases me, handing me over to Draco. He takes my hand and pulls me out of the shop toward the café.

As we approach the café, it almost seems that the atmosphere shifts drastically. The sign on the door is flipped over to say "closed" and Parvati is sitting at one of the tables outside, flipping aimlessly through the latest issue of the Quibbler. When she notices the two of us walking toward her, she waves, but there's no smile to accompany the greeting.

"Morning, boys," she says drearily.

"Morning, Parvati," I return the greeting, the curiosity plain in my voice. "What's going on? Shouldn't you be open already?"

"There's a bit of a skeptical going on in there. You two can go on in if you want. But I'm warning you now, it's an "enter at your own risk" kind of situation." She returns to her Quibbler, leaving the two of us to go on inside the café.

As soon as the door opens, causing a small bell to chime above the door, we are bombarded with evidence to explain Parvati's warning. Ron and Hermione are wailing on each other in the middle of the café, both seemingly red in the face. It is clear that Hermione is the one on the offensive. Her arms are moving about wildly as she uses them to talk enthusiastically. For every step she takes closer toward Ron, he will take a hesitant step back away from her. There is no way of knowing how long this argument has been going on before we arrived, but there are books on the floor and chairs knocked over. Hermione picks up another book from one of the tables near her, then quickly spins around and throws the book at Ron. Ron barely manages to duck in time and the book crashes against the wall behind him.

"YOU _PROMISED_ ME, RONALD WEASLEY!" Hermione screeches, her voice nearly having the ability to shatter all of the glass windows and dishes. "YOU PROMISED ME THAT THIS WAS ONLY TEMPORARY! YOU PROMISED ME THAT YOU WOULD COME BACK AND THINGS WOULD BE THE WAY THEY WERE! YOU MADE _ME_ PROMISE TO WAIT FOR YOU!"

"That was a long time ago, Hermione!" Ron explains.

"Promises aren't supposed to lose their meaning over time! That's the whole point of promising something to someone!"

"If you would just calm down for a – Harry!" Ron notices me over Hermione's shoulder, his eyes widening.

Hermione spins around to face me. "Harry! How long have you been standing there?"

"Somewhere between the book being thrown and the third promise," I mutter, treading carefully as I slowly approach Hermione. "What's going on in here?"

"_Ronald_ has decided to return to Paris, even though he has a perfect opportunity to further is career _here," _Hermione enlightens us, her exasperated tone making the tension in the air even more palpable than before. "Even after he promised me that the relocation was only temporary. Even after he promised me that he would come back for me and I waited for him. Even after it was made clear that he would have a wonderful promotion and be able to further his career just as fruitfully here with us as he would be able to back in Paris. He's still decided to go back."

"Hermione, you don't understand –" Ron tries to reason with her.

"You're right, Ronald. I _don't_ understand! I don't understand why you would choose to leave us again when you didn't need to. I understood the first time. I understood that it was a wonderful opportunity and that you needed to go so that you could make proper contacts and get the experience that you needed to get ahead. But now you have the experience and the contacts and you're being given an even _better_ opportunity for your career here where all of your friends and family are. I don't understand why you couldn't possibly give up the first opportunity to help your career, but the opportunity to move forward that allows you to stay with us is less important to you!"

"It just seems like the right thing to do, Hermione," Ron pleads with her. "I can't really explain it. I think it's the right place for me. I've gotten into a really good rhythm with everyone there and I have a routine down and everything is going really well for me there."

"But what about us?" Hermione's voice breaks a bit, tears welling up in her eyes. "You said you would come back for me – and for Harry. You asked me to _wait_ for you! I _did_ that, Ron! I_ did _that! Now you're saying, 'Oh never mind, I don't want you anymore.'"

"I _never_ said that!" Ron bellows, frustrated now. "You know that I love you, Hermione! I never said that I didn't want you anymore! This is just something I need to do for me. I need to go back."

My head is spinning as I process the argument carrying on in front of me. So, he really decided to go back to Paris, leaving us again. For some reason, I'm not so bothered by it as I thought I would have been. I'm not so bothered by it as I would have been months ago. However, I'm not sure if the reason I'm not upset is because my life has changed so much since then, or because I'm not all that surprised by his decision. Perhaps, in the back of my mind, I've been expecting him to always choose to stay in Paris. Although, seeing Hermione so upset is definitely bothering me. Typically she doesn't allow things like this cloud her judgment. I wouldn't have expected this to unravel her quite so drastically.

"You _love_ me!?" Hermione shouts. "Don't tell me that you love me, but then leave! Don't you _dare_!"

"Come with me," Ron requests of her quite unexpectedly. There is a long stretch of silence as Hermione stares at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape from the shock.

"W-what!?" she stutters.

"Come with me," he repeats slowly. "Move to Paris with me. We can be together there. You'd love Paris, Hermione! It's beautiful there! And there are so many interesting places and people – so many new things for you to experience."

"Look around you, Ron," Hermione says shakily. "This is _my_ café."

"You should see the cafés in Paris! They are so –"

"I don't _want_ to see the cafés in Paris! I can't go to Paris with you, Ron! This is my life here. This is my home! It's always been my home. This is where my family is. My family! My mum. My dad. Harry. I can't leave Harry! Especially not after everything he's been through. And I made a commitment to Parvati to own this café with her and I can't just back out on my commitments as easily as you. I am not so willing to abandon my family and friends because Paris is so much more new and exciting than it is here! It's a shame you don't feel the same way."

"Wait a minute! You've been furious with me all this time because we were supposed to be together and I wanted to go back. But when I give you the chance to come with me so that we can still be together, you turn me down?"

"It's not just about me, Ron! Because it's not just me that you're leaving behind." Hermione takes a few steps back, reaching out to me and taking my hand in hers. This action sparks a flash of guilt to makes its way across Ron's face. "Ron, I can't leave Harry, or Parvati, Neville, Luna –" she glances back over her shoulder toward the door, " – Draco."

Ron stares between the three of us for a long moment, hopefully thinking hard about what exactly he is leaving behind. Unfortunately, after his long silence, with a heavy sigh, he reaches over for his jacket that has been draped over the back of one of the armchairs. "Alright, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll stop by before I leave to say goodbye to everyone. If you change your mind before then, my offer still stands."

He pauses at my side, resting his hand on my shoulder for a minute, before slipping past us and out of the door. Hermione, seemingly exhausted from the lengthy argument, shuffles over to one of the sofas and sits down, clutching one of the throw pillows to her chest. Draco walks over behind the counter, the sound of dishes clanking together filling the silence of the room. As I sit down on one side of Hermione, Draco walks over with a small mug and hands it to Hermione, taking a seat on her other side. She gives him a weak smile and sips slowly at the hot chocolate.

"I guess it's just the three of us now," Hermione murmurs sadly. Then after a slight pause, she looks up suddenly at me. "Wait, it is the _three_ of us now, isn't it? Are you two still together?"

"Yeah, we've decided to stay together," I tell her, hoping that she will consider this good news.

"Good. You've been smiling lately. I like seeing you happy."

"But I want _you_ to be happy, too, Hermione."

"I'm going to be fine, Harry. It's just a lot to process right now, is all. I spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like when he came back – and now all of that dreaming was a waste of time."

"We'll figure it out, Hermione. You still have us," I gesture between Draco and myself, "and I know how strong you are. You were there for me when I was trying to find Draco. And we're going to be here for you while you try to find whatever it is that you need to be happy, too."

"That in itself, Harry, makes me very happy." She sighs, standing up and straightening out her clothes. Shaking off her sadness and exhaustion, she holds her head up high, just as she always has, and continues to fight on. "Now, why don't we open up shop and get you two some breakfast. Will one of you go get Parvati. It's about time we started getting to work around here."


	10. Weasels and Otters

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Draco Malfoy – Saturday, September 9th, 2000

Out of support for Harry, I go with him over to the café to say goodbye to the Weasel before he goes back to Paris. When we first arrive, everyone is greeting Harry, asking him how he is feeling, how his check-up at the hospital went, and whether or not the two of us were planning on remaining Bonded. After a few agonizing minutes of him having to explain that his recovery went well and we _are_ indeed going to stay Bonded, the group finally allows him some space. The Weasel gives a mind-numbingly boring speech about how he is sorry for leaving, but he feels it is where he is meant to be and he will miss them all terribly. Blah, blah, blah.

"Are you sure that this is really the best choice?" Neville asks hesitantly.

"Yeah, I am," the Weasel confirms. "I've been up all night tossing and turning over this. There are a lot of factors to consider and obviously the decision wasn't easy. But I can't explain it – there's just a gut feeling that I have. I know that it's the place for me to be at this point in my life. Maybe somewhere down the line I'll be able to come back again. But right now I need to be there."

"You'll come back and visit, though, won't you?" his sister, Ginny or whatever, asks with a hopeful tone.

"Of course," he assures her. "I'm not going to forget any of you. And I can always come back and visit. You should all come visit me in Paris sometime, too. I'd love to show you around. It's quite beautiful there."

"Yes, so we've heard," Granger mutters bitterly.

"Don't worry, Gin," Weasley continues, ignoring Granger's comment. "I promise I'll come back and visit."

"Yeah, because rumor has it your promises mean so much," I say smugly, winking at Granger, who tries desperately to hide a smile.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Weasley growls at me angrily.

"I'm fairly certain I know enough. After all, I've been the one here with them while you've been off doing whatever the fuck you think is so important."

"Hey! You don't h –!"

"Okay, boys, that's enough," Ginny interjects, putting her hands up to separate us. "Put those things away and zip up."

With an irritated huff, I back away and sit down in one of the armchairs, pulling Harry down onto my lap and wrapping my arms around his waist possessively. To my satisfaction, this seems to frustrate Weasley further, but he doesn't say a word. Despite my efforts to mend relationships with Harry's other friends, the Weasel is too much for me to handle. Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult if I didn't know, from the Bond, how much he has hurt Harry. He is strong and keeps a brave face about the fact that he is going back to Paris, probably for Granger's sake mostly, but I can feel the reality of how this is affecting him.

The Weasel continues talking to his other friends as if I'm not even there. After a few moments, Granger stands up quietly and walks outside to sit at one of the tables set up outside the café. Kissing Harry on the neck to gain his attention, I nod toward her. He nods in return, standing to let me up from underneath him. Harry remains inside with the others as I go outside. The bell chimes as I open the door, causing Granger to look up at me. I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to say to her, but she did include me in her reasons for declining Weasley's offer to join him in Paris, so perhaps I owe her something. Besides, it does give me an excuse to get away from him.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask, slightly unsure how to interact with her, and taking a seat across from her at the table.

"I just needed to get out of there," she replies grimly. "I'm sorry, I must seem so pathetic. It's just that I thought – we were supposed to be – it doesn't really matter anymore, I suppose."

"I don't think you're pathetic, Granger. Although, I don't quite understand why you care so much about _Weasley_. He's not exactly a charmer."

"You probably don't have the best view of him to make an accurate judgment, Draco. I've known Ron for a really long time. He's always been loyal and a wonderful friend, but lately he seems to be more concerned with his career."

"Well, we wouldn't want love to fuck with his social climbing."

"I understand where it comes from, to an extent. It hasn't always been easy for him to be the best friend of Harry Potter. It's quite a large shadow to be cast behind. And after growing up with so many siblings, and then being compared to Harry, I think he just wants to make something of himself. He wants people to notice him for something other than 'Harry Potter's friend.' But I never thought he'd be willing to give up his friends and family for it."

"Well, as 'the husband of Harry Potter,' I'd say it's not quite fair. Sure, it must suck growing up with no money and hundreds of siblings. I'm sure he'd like to know what it's like to actually be someone. But you said that he has the opportunity to do that here. It's not like it's Potter's fault that Weasley is trapped in his shadow around here."

"You think that Ron wants to go back to Paris because Harry isn't _as_ famous there as he is here?"

"There is no way of knowing that for sure. All I'm saying is that it makes sense. I'm sure it's much easier to get out from behind the Chosen One's shadow when you're miles and miles away from him."

"Where does that leave me?" Granger leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyebrows pointed in skepticism. "Am I supposed to be alone forever because everyone is afraid of getting stuck in Harry's shadow?"

"Alone forever? Weasley is a git, Granger, and if he cares more about his career and social standing than he cares for you, then that's just him. It doesn't mean everyone is going to be that way. Besides, Granger, you're still in your twenties. I think you have a little more time before you have to start collecting cats. And you already have one, so your collection is already off to a respectable start."

Her jaw drops slightly for a moment at my words, but after a second she laughs – a genuine laugh. This may be the first time I've ever seen her laugh. It manages to calm my nerves, making me more comfortable with her. Her hair is still frizzy, but is not nearly as large as it used to be. I can actually see her face past it now. Admittedly she is quite beautiful. It's a shame that she thought she had to rely on Weasley. Her eyes seem to shimmer as she stares through the café windows at her group of friends all sitting around together.

"So, you and Harry really decided to remain Bonded?" Granger finally says, still staring through the window.

"Does that surprise you?" I ask, unsure whether or not I want to know the answer.

"No, it doesn't." She looks over at me, a small smile on her lips. "I've never seen Harry so happy. And despite all your efforts to be a man of mystery, it was obvious that you loved him. It wouldn't have made any sense for the two of you to separate."

"It doesn't seem strange to you at all?"

"That the two of you are together? No. A bit unexpected at first, I suppose. But I don't think it's strange. Especially not now that I've seen you two together."

"I'm not so sure I'm used to it yet. It always seemed so impossible, and now that's it actually happening – I don't know – I feel like I'm going to mess it up somehow. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. You say that it's so obvious that I love him, but I don't know how to show him that. He told me he wants me to let him and all that."

"I have an idea, actually," she tells me, standing up from her seat. "Come with me."

Without even waiting for me to say anything, she starts walking down the street, motioning for me to follow her. Glancing back through the window at Harry in a moment's hesitation, I wonder whether or not I should tell him that I'm leaving first. Instead, I focus as hard as possible on the back of his head, which after only a short moment of this causes him to raise his head and look back over his shoulder at me. A large smile spreads across his face when he sees me. I simply point a finger over at Granger, who has paused to wait for me. Harry nods in understanding and waves. Returning the wave, I begin walking after Granger down the street. It isn't until we are in an empty alleyway that she finally stops and turns to face me.

"If you're planning on murdering me, I'd find an alleyway that isn't so close to where we were just seen together," I say, glancing suspiciously around the alley.

"I have no intention of murdering you, Draco," Granger huffs. She holds her hand out to me, clearly expecting me to take it. "I want to take you somewhere and I don't want any Muggles to see us."

If there was any such moment to hesitate, it would be the moment when someone you spent years bullying – who also happens to be exceptionally talented with magic – has you alone and wants to take you somewhere without telling you where you're going. Although, in this particular situation, one could probably argue that, out of the two of us, Granger is the more trustworthy one. Relinquishing control over the situation, I grab her hand and shut my eyes, waiting for the nauseating feeling that accompanies Apparation.

After the usual twisting and turning, I open my eyes and look around. We are standing in the middle of a road with tons of small cottages and shops. Granger begins walking down the road through the village. A woman and her young child are out in the front yard of one of the cottages, planting flowers in the flowerbeds. She waves at us as we walk by. Absently waving back, we both continue to walk down through the rows of cottages. It isn't until we reach a specific cottage that I finally realize where exactly we are. The cottage is almost completely destroyed and the sign in front of it is covered in little messages.

"We're in Godric's Hollow, aren't we?" I ask in surprise, staring in awe at the home where my husband lost his family, where the love of my life could have been killed.

"Yes," Granger whispers, as if the remains of the house are so fragile that speaking too loudly could bring the rest of it down.

"I don't understand. Why did you bring me here?"

A pale arm stretches across my line of sight to point my attention over to something else. When my gaze follows her guidance, they land on another cottage with a large sign posted up in the front yard with the words "for sale" written in large, red letters. Granger grasps my arm, dragging me toward the other cottage. The realtor is inspecting the front yard, writing things down on a clipboard. As she notices the two of us walking up to the home, a large, most likely fake, smile spreads across her face.

"Hello there, dears," the realtor greets us cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Very beautiful," Granger agrees politely. "So, how long has this place been for sale? I noticed the sign the last time I was here visiting someone."

"Oh, quite a while now. It seems that small villages aren't really the main focus for people these days. They all seem to prefer to live closer to all the action. It's a shame, as well, because it's such a lovely home and the community is so friendly. You wouldn't happen to be interested, would you?"

"Well, no, not _me_. But my friend, Draco, here might be interested."

"Really? You're looking for a new home, gorgeous?" the realtor turns to me expectantly.

"Well, I recently got, er, _married_," I tell the woman awkwardly, still finding it difficult to say. It's going to take a while to get used to the idea.

"Married?" the realtor repeats. "Goodness, you're so young! Well, this home would be perfect for a new couple starting out. Would you like to take a look inside?"

"Oh, um, sure, that would be great."

"You go ahead," Granger insists. "I'm going to go take a look in some of the shops for some house warming gifts."

Granger winks at me before walking back down the road toward the shops. The realtor leads the way inside the cottage. As soon as we cross the threshold, I can see Harry and myself all over the home. Mental images of us reading on the sofa in front of the fireplace, teasing each other while making breakfast in the kitchen, showering together – it's so easy for me to imagine us living here together. It seems a bit strange to be moving away from my mother. But then again, why shouldn't Harry be able to live close to his own parents.

"The home comes fully furnished," the realtor explains, showing me through all of the different rooms in the cottage. Obviously I'm going to have to use magic to alter a few things. Otherwise it seems perfect. As the realtor continue telling me all about the home, the village, the friendly neighbors, and all of the other selling points she can come up with, I'm making a list of all of the changes I'm going to make to the furniture and such to make it more personal. The color scheme of this cottage is not acceptable.

"You don't have to sell me," I finally cut her off. "Just tell me what I need to do."

The expression of pleasant surprise on her face widens her smile. She pulls a sheet of paper from her clipboard and hands it to me. "If I can have you fill out this form. I can have the rest of the paperwork drawn up. Taking a few moments to fill out the form she gave me, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of anxiety. I hope that Harry is going to be happy about this. What if being so close to where he lost his parents is going to make him sad? Then again, Granger is the one who brought me here and suggested this. If living here would bother him, she would know that and she wouldn't suggest it.

"There you go," I say after I'm finished filling out there form, handing it back to her.

She glances down at it and her eyes widen. "Black-Potter? Potter? As in Harry Potter?"

"You know about Harry?"

"Yes, of course. You must be from the Wizarding World as well. So, you're married to Harry Potter, then? This really is the perfect place for you to live."

"Listen, it's kind of important that we keep this between us. He's been through a lot lately and I don't think he's ready for the world to know about this."

"Not to worry, sir, I am very discrete. I will be very professional. Well, seeing as we're both part of the Wizarding World, this process can go much faster. I can have that paperwork made up right now."

The woman pulls her wand out of a secret pocket inside of her jacket and waves it at a stack of papers. The papers begin shuffling and writing appears on each page. Her smile seems much more genuine now. Once the paperwork has been magically drawn up, within only a matter of minutes, the realtor and I both sign our names in the designated places. Merlin, it seems like signing the paperwork takes longer than actually creating the bloody paperwork. But it's worth it. The realtor holds the stack of forms tightly, a triumphant smile on her face.

"Congratulations, you are officially a home owner."


	11. Blacks and Potters

**THIS IS A SEQUEL! MUST READ "THE LIVES OF THE LOST" FIRST!**

Harry Potter – Sunday, September 10th, 2000

"Draco, slow down," I groan, only half awake as Draco enthusiastically attempts to pull me out of the bed. "What's going on?"

"Come on, come on," Draco pleads, pulling on my arm. "Hurry up and get dressed!"

"Ugh, _why?_ Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise! Now, _please_, let's go!" Draco hands me my clothes and stands in front of me until I put them all on. Curiosity is killing me as I yank my clothes on and rake my fingers through my hair in a pathetic attempt to make it look presentable. Once I'm ready to go, Draco starts to pull me toward the door.

"Hold on, wait." Pulling him back toward me, ignoring his groans of protest, I wrap my arms around his waist. "Aren't you at least going to kiss me before dragging me to some big surprise?"

His impatient expression softens into a bright smile. A warm hand slides along the side of my face, holding it in place as he leans down and presses his lips to mine. Melting against his chest, I wish desperately that I could just pull him back into bed. He has other plans, however, as he breaks the kiss – he turns me around, pulling me back against his chest, whispering in my ear to close my eyes. Without warning, he Apparates with me, insisting that I keep my eyes closed. Blindly walking in unknown territory, my only guide being Draco's hands on my sides, I focus on all of the sounds I hear around me to try to figure out where I am.

"Draco, where are we?" I mutter curiously. "What's going on? Can I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet. Just hold on." He continues to lead me along. Once we finally stop, my heart is pounding with the anxiety of not knowing what's going to happen. "Okay. Open your eyes."

My eyes flutter open and the first thing that I see is a large stone with my parents' names on it. We are standing in front of my parents' grave. We're in Godric's Hollow. Part of me is wondering why Draco would bring me here and what exactly the surprise is supposed to be. Is there more to it or was this the surprise? Then again, there's another part of me that is thinking that this should have happened eventually. How can I be married to him without taking him here eventually? Although I did assume that _I_ would be the one to bring _him_ here and not the other way around.

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask quietly, staring down at the names.

"Because you and I are together and our lives are changing – my mother has been a part of it with us and I thought you would want your parents to be a part of our lives as well." Draco's grip squeezes tighter on my sides. "Is this okay? I don't want to upset you."

"No, no," I turn around in his arms so that I can look up into his eyes. "I'm not upset. I'm just confused. Draco, I love that we're here together. I'm glad that you're so willing to come here and meet my parents."

Draco takes my hand and kneels down next to me in front of the stone, tugging lightly on my hand so that I join him on the ground. Once I'm doing on the ground with him, he pulls me into his arms so that I'm leaning back against his chest, facing my parents' grave, wrapped tightly in his arms. We both sit there in silence for a long moment, simply watching the letters on the smooth stone. If there was any doubt that Draco and I are truly family now, this moment would have dispelled it all completely. I'm not sure what else could mean more to me than knowing that he is so willing to simply sit here with me and include them in our life together.

"Hello Mum, Dad," I say hesitantly, worrying for a moment that Draco will think I'm mad for talking to the grave as if they are there. "Sorry I haven't been to see you in a while. Things have been a bit out of control lately. Speaking of which, this is Draco, my husband. I know, I wasn't expecting it either. But don't worry, he's wonderful. Draco, say hi."

"Hello," Draco murmurs shyly.

"He's not usually this shy. I wish that you were here to really get to know him. And Narcissa, his mother, she's been taking great care of me. You would love her, Mum, I'm sure of it."

"Actually," Draco interjects, reaching into a small bag that I hadn't realized he'd been holding, pulling something out that is wrapped in a beautiful, purple cloth. "My mother made this for you and I promised her when I mentioned we were coming here that I would give it to you."

The smile that spreads across my face is burning in my heart as well – my love for Draco reaching a level I never would have thought possibly at his words. He brought a gift for my mother? I watch, wide-eyed and amazed, as he unfolds the cloth from around the object, revealing a stunning glass lily flower – the stained glass shimmers in the sunlight, the colors made to match my mother with a vibrant green lily pad to match her eyes and a redish-orange lily atop it to match her hair. Draco sets the glass lily upon the small ledge at the bottom of the tombstone where the real flowers are usually placed. He then mutters a spell to ensure that the lily will remain there and intact permanently – unable to be stolen or damaged in any way forever.

"Draco, it's beautiful!" I gasp in awe, tears burning in my eyes as I imagine the look on my mother's face if she were here to look at it. Unable to contain my happiness, I lean over and kiss him, silently thanking him. "It's perfect!"

"Well, I actually have something else in here as well," Draco tells me, reaching for the bag that he had pulled the lily from. "And I wanted your parents to be here when I gave it to you. I figured they would want to be a part of this and see the look on your face."

"Draco, what did you do?" My heart begins racing with anticipation. Palms are sweating. Stomach in knots. His hand reaches into the bag again and pulls out a small, velvet ring box. A _ring_ box!? Oh Merlin, did he buy me a ring!? This must be the surprise that he mentioned before. He turns toward me, holding the ring box out in front of him with both hands. "Oh gods, Draco."

He wouldn't really have gotten me a ring, would he? It seems like something that Draco would consider a cheesy romantic gesture – something that belongs in romance novels and fairy tales and not in real life. Although, I suppose that what my eyes can clearly see in front of me in the form of a ring box, meant to hold rings obviously, says a lot more than the mere assumptions that I've held in my mind. Time seems to stop. The entire world freezes in place around us as his fingers slowly, too slowly, pull the ring box open. The sunlight shimmers off of the silver object inside. My breath catches in my throat. It takes me a minute to process what I'm looking at. It's not a ring. It's a key.

"Draco, what is this?" My voice cracks as I speak, still slightly in shock.

"This is a key, Potter," he says dully. Turning to look at my parents' grave, he says, "He's damn cute, but not the brightest, bless him."

"I know what a bloody _key_ is, Draco. Why are you giving me a key? I mean, keys are meant to unlock things and at the moment I'm not entirely sure what it's supposed to unlock."

Draco takes a deep, steadying breath to calm his nerves. "This key unlocks the front door to our new home. When Granger and I left the café yesterday, she decided to bring me here. She said that she saw a for sale sign in front of one of the cottages the last time the two of you came here."

"You bought us a _house!?_ You bought us a house _here!?_"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, we are married and all, so we can't reasonably live with my mother for the rest of our lives. We needed a place of our own. Granger thought that it would be nice for us to have a place here. This is where you would've grown up and probably would've been living now anyway. And you'll be close to your parents."

"I-I can't believe you bought us a _house!_ That's huge! That's – that's – I –" I stammer, unable to fully process this information. I stare down at the small key as if it will disappear at any moment. If he bought us a house, then he must really be taking this relationship seriously. As surprises go, I'm certainly surprised, so it lived up to its name.

"What are you thinking? Was this too much? Was it a mistake? Because I can –"

"No, Draco, it's incredible! It's incredible! I'm just so surprised! I can't believe that you would buy us a house, and in Godric's Hollow no less. Are you sure you want to live in a village named after the founder of Gryffindor house?"

"I suppose for you I can put up with it. We'll just have to put plenty of green on the inside of the house to balance it all out." He flashes me a brilliant smile. He holds up the ring box again and this time I reach out and take the key. This is all so surreal. "Granger spent almost the entire rest of the day yesterday helping me get the house ready to show you. She bought us all sorts of stuff and we used magic to alter some of the furniture. She made a whole massive project out of it."

"So Hermione was in on this and the two of you kept this a secret from me?"

"It just happened yesterday. Besides, I wanted it to be a surprise."

The world looks somehow different to me now – as if it's in color all of the sudden. The glass lily continues to shimmer miraculously. The small, silver key feels cold in the palm of my hand. Draco's smile makes me melt into his arms. I can't believe he's done all of this for me – buying us a house in Godric's Hollow, having a conversation with my dead parents in a graveyard, and even bring my mother the most beautiful gift I've ever seen. Part of me wants to pull him into a kiss right here and now and never let him go. Of course, it might be considered inappropriate to do so in a graveyard.

A home in Godric's Hollow. I have a home in Godric's Hollow. Draco was right. This is where I would have grown up. This is where I would probably be living now had things been different. This is where my parents are, in a manner of speaking. This is my true home aside from Hogwarts. And now I'm finally here. It feels a bit strange in a way, because it seemed for a long while that this would never happen. But now that I'm finally here it seems so perfect. I'm home. I'm home with my parents the way it was always supposed to be.

"So, can I see this house that is supposedly my own?" I ask playfully.

"Of course you can see it. In fact, you're expected to _live_ in it."

Draco takes my hand and helps me to stand. After saying our goodbyes to my – oh, _our_ – parents, he guides me down through the village. The familiarity of the village is so comforting to me as I smile at each of the shops and cottages that we pass by. We even pass by the ruins of my old house, still preserved by the Wizarding community as some sort of remembrance. But we don't stop to look at it. Not now. Right now is about my new home here, not the old one. Right now is about my future with Draco, not my past with Voldemort. Because that is my life now – Voldemort is my past, Draco is my future. He finally stops me in front of one of the cottages. There are flowers planted in the front yard and a small, beautiful fountain that I remember Hermione always saying she loved. She must have decided to donate it to our new home as an excuse to buy it. But the real attraction of the house is the little sign in the front yard near the door of the gate.

The small wooden sign stands tall and proud in the front of the home. The dark, elegant script engraved across the face reads: "Blacks and Potters."

**THE END**


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